Twilight Recalibrated
by 4thHorseman
Summary: A reimagining of "Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined" by Stephenie Meyer. This story explores how "Twilight" would unfold if the protagonist was a scientific prodigy and a defiant, enigmatic individual with a dark past.
1. Chapter 1

Twilight Recalibrated

 _Hello reader. This is the first chapter of my adaptation of Stephenie Meyer's latest book "Twilight Reimagined" but with a twist (more than one, actually, by I don't want to spoil things). For those of you who don't know or haven't read the book, "Twilight Reimagined" is essentially a retelling of the original Twilight story but with most of the characters gender-swapped. For example, Bella becomes Beaufort and Edward becomes Edythe, but the plot is the same (for the most part)._

 _No copyright infringement intended. Feel free to comment. Enjoy!_

 _Update: I'll be publishing the first chapter of Evening Star on February 27. It tells the story from Edythe's point of view. I'll plan to reveal a few things in that story that I haven't gotten to in this one, so I'd recommend reading that one as well. Also, I made Ms. Varner a somewhat more belligerent character, in line with her rendition in Midnight Sun._

 _The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination_ \- Albert Einstein

Finally here.

Not that there was much to look at. Forks was about as far removed from Phoenix as it was possible to be. It rained in this inconsequential part of Washington State more than any other part of the US, and the clouds almost never went away. And who names a town after a piece of silverware? It wasn't good for tourism, though that was probably a lost cause anyway. But it had to be better than Phoenix. The only real question was whether leaving that horrible place was worth staying away from my mother. We'd always gotten along, and she had been with me even in the worst of times. I told myself that she was in good hands; Phil was levelheaded as well as patient. He'd make sure she didn't do anything too irrational.

My dad, Charlie, picked me up in the airport after I took another flight to Port Angeles from Seattle. I'd always gotten along well with him; he was efficient and did not chatter, like me. And he was a police chief, which was nice, if a little intimidating sometimes. He'd already registered me in high school, and as we drove home, I began to think earnestly about how differently my life would be here.

Better, I thought. I'll have much more time to think about my life without worrying about the bills gettings paid and hanging around people I despise.

We talked about my time in Phoenix and how my mother was handling her new relationship. But mostly we drove together in silence, which was fine by me.

The biggest disappointment wouldn't be the change in weather or the lack of friends here, but the fact that the high school I'd now be going to was much smaller, which meant fewer classes to choose from. It was unlikely they had AP classes here, but one could still hope.

Charlie broke the silence. " I found a good car for you. It wasn't expensive, but I think you'll like it."

"Really?" I asked. "Thanks Dad!" I'd never been a huge fan of driving, but it would be nice to have some independence for once.

"You're not going to ask what kind of car?" Charlie inquired.

"Why? The fact that you got me one is good enough for me. I've never had a car of my own before. As long as it works, I'm happy".

When we arrived at Forks, I couldn't help staring out the windows. I'd never seen so much green before; the trees were covered in moss and the ground was blanketed with ferns. It was quite beautiful, but it felt like a different planet compared to Phoenix. Like Kashyyyk, or Endor, I thought half-jokingly.

Eventually we got home; the same two-story house where I was raised. There, parked on the street, was my "new" car, or truck, rather. I studied it intently. It was old (something told me I didn't want to know how old) but very sturdy-looking. What it lacked in style it made up for in structural integrity; I doubted the truck would suffer much damage in the event of a collision, which was good because I wasn't the safest driver around. Overall, it looked like a decent ride.

"It's nice. Thanks again, Dad" I said, and meant it.

"Glad you like it", he replied.

I began taking my belongings to my new room, but my mind was pondering the proof of Taylor's Theorem for single variables, the most recent mathematical proof I'd forced myself to learn. It had vexed me since I got to the airport and bumped into those idiots, and I still couldn't go through all of the steps in my mind. Something was missing, but what was it? It seemed straightforward enough: apply L'Hopital's rule and differentiate repeatedly to show that the limit of h as x approaches a equals 0, but I couldn't visualize it. After a while, I gave up. Hopefully Forks High School would have a well-stocked library, or I would really be frustrated.

I got ready for school the next day and drove in my truck for the first time. I was afraid I might not find the school, but I overestimated the size of this backwater town. The school itself was less than impressive, but that was to be expected considering that it only had 358 students, including me. After parking, I walked towards the front entrance. I wasn't nervous at all; I only hoped that the teachers were competent and that the students wouldn't get in my way.

I retrieved my schedule as well as a map of the school from the front office and went on my way to English, my first class.

The classroom was small, which was good, since it meant more one-on-one interaction. I handed the slip I'd been given to the teacher, Ms. Mason, and smiled. She merely nodded at me and sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me in front of the class, which was a relief.

I looked at the reading list: it had all of the classics you'd expect in a well-rounded English class. I was glad that this teacher at least had her priorities straight, although I'd already read almost everything on the list.

When the bell rang, a pale, skinny girl with epidermal issues and jet-black hair leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Beaufort Swan, aren't you?" She came across as an overeager, chess-club type.

"Beau," I corrected. Suddenly everyone within earshot turned to look at me.

"Where's your next class?" she asked

"Building six," I replied calmly. "Government, with Jefferson. Should be interesting."

I ignored the rest of the students, who continued to look at me with inordinate curiosity.

"I've never heard anyone say that about Government! Anyway, I'm heading toward building four. I could show you the way…I'm Erica, by the way".

"Thanks". I didn't need her following me, but I wished to remain courteous.

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. Several students appeared to be walking a little too close, but I chose not to pay attention.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" she asked.

"Yes." Couldn't she take a hint?

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Well, it's in the Sonoran Desert, so no. The annual precipitation is around 180 millimeters; the national average is around 940."

"What's it like?" she asked, sounding astonished.

"Hot and dry," I responded.

"Well, you have a nice tan. I could use a trip to Phoenix," she joked.

I smiled at her, though I'd long since lost interest in the conversation. Suddenly I couldn't wait to get to class. We continued until we got to the south buildings by the gym. Erica followed me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck, although I really don't think you'll need it," she said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together". She sounded hopeful.

"Maybe," I replied politely, and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same way. My worst fears were confirmed: there were no AP classes. In fact, the most advanced math course I could take was Trigonometry, which I considered an insult. I'd already learned multivariable calculus; having to go back to Trigonometry was the equivalent of forcing a 13-year-old to learn how to count again.

My instructor for trigonometry, Ms. Varner, was also the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I explained that I was the top student at my former high school and that I'd won a number of prizes in math and physics as well as chemistry. The students were flabbergasted, though I noticed the teacher didn't seem particularly pleased. "Well, Beau," she replied with a tight smile. "Let's see if you're as smart as you think you are." She had no idea who she was dealing with.

After several classes I began to recognize some of the faces in each room. Usually there was someone who would ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I answered politely, but honestly. But most importantly, I let everyone know that my name was Beau, not Beaufort. I didn't think I would ever forgive my mother for giving me such a horrible name.

One individual sat next to me in Trigonometry and Spanish, and he walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. He was shorter than I was and had extremely curly hair. I couldn't remember his name (or any other student's name), so I smiled and nodded as he rattled on about teachers and classes.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of his friends, who he introduced to me. They seemed to approve of the fact that he'd invited me, though I made little effort to remember their names. The girl from English, whose name could barely recall (Erica, I think), waved at me from across the room, and they all laughed. I laughed as well, pretending to be amused.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, thinking about Taylor's Theorem (again) that I first saw them.

They were seated in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible. There were five of them. They weren't talking or eating, though they each had a tray of food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them. And stare at them I did.

There were 3 girls, one of whom was very tall. She had dark, curly hair and was built like an athlete. The other one had honey-colored hair hanging to her shoulders, less tall than the brunette but still well above average. She didn't seem entirely stable, and I made a mental note not to cross paths with this individual. The last girl was smaller, with metallic bronze hair of a hue I'd never seen before. She looked younger than the other two, who looked like they should have been in college.

The two males were opposites. The taller one I estimated was at least 1.7 meters and had straight gold hair wound into a bun on the back of his head, a rather peculiar hairstyle, though I was not one to judge such things. The other male was shorter and thinner, with dark hair buzzed so short it looked like a shadow across his scalp.

They all looked different and yet strangely similar. They were all extremely, almost unnaturally pale. They all had very dark eyes-black, it seemed, from my vantage point. They all had deep shadows under their eyes, which implied sleep deprivation.

But that wasn't why I couldn't look away. I kept staring at them because they were insanely, inhumanly beautiful, the males and the females. I'd known plenty of attractive students in Phoenix, but none of them even came close to the five students I was seeing now.

The one I felt drawn to the most was the smaller girl with the metallic bronze hair. I wasn't sure why; they were all extremely good-looking. But she seemed perfect somehow, in a really disturbing way.

They all seemed detached from reality, and as I watched, the shorter of the two males rose with his tray - food untouched - and walked away with a quick, graceful lope. I continued to watch as he dumped his tray and glided through the back door, faster than I'd have thought possible.

Well that was a waste of food, I thought, but I continued to look at the others, who hadn't moved.

"Who are they?" I asked the student from Spanish.

As he looked up to see who I meant, the shorter girl suddenly looked at us. She looked at my neighbor for a split second, then her dark eyes flickered to mine. Long eyes, angled up at the corners, thick lashes.

She looked away quickly, faster than I could, though I'd dropped my stare as soon as she 'd glanced our way. She didn't seem remotely interested in me, which was just as well. I didn't have time for romance, and I certainly wasn't stupid enough to think I could ever be with someone like her.

My neighbor explained, and for once I listened closely (his name was Jeremy, apparently). They were the Cullens and the Hales. Edith and Eleanor Cullen, Jessamine and Royal Hale, and Archie Cullen. They lived with Dr. Cullen and her husband. While the Cullens had been adopted, the Hales, who were twins, were apparently foster kids (though rather old foster kids, I thought).

I carefully considered all of this. "They're seem rather isolated, don't they?"

"Yeah!" Jeremy agreed. "But they've always been like that. They're pretty weird".

Interesting. " So have they always lived in Forks?" I asked.

"No. They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska".

Alaska. "Hey, did you know that in the northernmost regions of Alaska, and inside the Artic Circle more generally, nights can last more than 24 hours? In Kiruna, Sweden, for example, night lasts for almost 28 days during the winter, and the day lasts about 50."

"Wow", he replied. "I'd go crazy living in a place like that".

"I imagine they're used to it." Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the bronze-haired girl looking at me, this time with obvious curiosity. I pretended not to notice her, but it seemed, as I looked back at Jeremy, that her look held some kind of unanswered expectation. In fact, as she continued to stare she began to look frustrated, for reasons unknown.

I decided to put it out of my mind. I doubted she was more intelligent than any of the other students, and in any case, I had things to do.

I left lunch with Allen, one of Jeremy's friends, who happened to be going to the same class I was, namely Biology II. I'd honestly never found biology to be that interesting, at least at the high school level; I was more of a math and physics geek.

When we entered class, Allen went to sit at a black-topped lab exactly like the ones I used in Phoenix. He already had a neighbor, it seemed. In fact, all of the tables were filled except one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized the girl with the metallic bronze hair sitting next to the single open seat. Go figure.

As I walked down the aisle to do my required intro for the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching her out of the corner of my eye. Just as I passed, she suddenly went rigid in her seat. Her face jerked up toward mine surprisingly fast, staring at me with a look of fury, of hostility. Fascinating.

"Can I help you?" I asked equably. She immediately turned away, but her expression did not change, and as I sat down I heard an "ooooh" from one of the students in the back. Imbecile.

I'd been right about the eyes. They were completely black.

Mrs. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions or mention of my full name, which was good. That would be the last thing I needed from a class I didn't even particularly like. I went to sit by the bronze bimbo (that would be my nickname for her from now on), not bothering to look at her as I set my book on the table and took my seat. I noticed her change in posture, leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of her chair and averting her face as if she smelled something repugnant. It was all I could do to keep from laughing; seriously, what was wrong with this idiot? I'd never even met her before, and now she was acting as if I smelled like manure (which I most certainly did not; I was very particular about my hygiene).

The lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I knew this wasn't going to keep my attention, so I decided to write down the Taylor proof and see if I finally got it right. But before I did, I had to satisfy my curiosity.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked her.

No response. Whatever.

I focused on the problem at hand. I wrote most of the proof from memory, but there was still a missing detail. What was it? I resisted the temptation to yank at my hair. Alright, maybe there was another way. This time I used the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus. The proof seemed to build itself until I hit another roadblock, this time in finding the Lagrange form of the remainder for R(x). Dammit. My gaze wandered around. Maybe there was something here that would trigger an epiphany. I decided to look at the bronze bimbo again (actually it was hard not to look when I wasn't thinking about math). She had not relaxed her stiff position on the edge of her chair, sitting as far from me as possible, with her hair hiding most of her face. Her hand was clenched into a fist on top of her left thigh, tendons standing out under her pale skin. She had the sleeves of her white Henley pushed up to her elbows, and her forearm flexed with surprisingly hard muscle beneath her pale skin. Her skin was unnaturally perfect; there were no freckles or scars that I could see.

Honestly, I thought. How much money did she spend on cosmetic surgery? She couldn't even wait until finishing high school. Kids these days. Her parents were probably extremely wealthy, which would explain why she was such a narcissistic - wait, that's it! Extreme. Extreme Value Theorem, and Intermediate Value Theorem! That was the breakthrough I needed to finish the proof. I went back to writing and did not stop until I was finally finished. There, I thought. Math is beautiful. How had Einstein described it? The poetry of logical ideas, that was it. Each theorem was based on another. Even the most complicated result built upon simple premises.

I relaxed and leaned back against my chair. It was funny; I almost felt like thanking the bimbo; it might have taken me much longer if she hadn't been there.

Mrs. Banner began handing out graded quizzes; she handed me one to give to the girl. I couldn't resist the impulse to glance at the top-100%- and I noticed her name was Edythe Cullen. So bronze bimbo does have a name after all, and an odd one.

I glanced at her as I slid the paper over and noticed her glaring at me again, her eyes full of revulsion. I sighed inwardly; yet another reason to avoid relationships. How would I ever handle this crap?

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, which took me by surprise, and Edythe Cullen was out of her seat. She moved like a dancer, every perfect line of her slim body in harmony with all the others, her back to me, and she was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat. I stayed in my seat, pensive.

"Aren't you Beaufort Swan?" a female voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced girl, with flat-ironed blond hair, smiling at me in a friendly way. It was certainly a welcome change.

"Beau," I corrected, smiling back.

"I'm McKayla."

"Hi."

We started talking, which I was surprised to find was something I actually wanted to do right about now. She was very nice; I thought we might actually be friends, even though she did not seem particularly bright.

Ass we were entering the gym she asked, "So, did you stab Edythe Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen her act like that".

"The bronze bimbo?" I asked. "No, I'd never even met her before."

"Is that what you call her?" McKayla laughed.

"She doesn't deserve another name, "I said flatly. "At least not until she explains why she's acting that way."

"She's weird." McKayla got rather uncomfortably close. "If I got to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

"I'll keep that in mind". Could she be any more obvious? I walked through the boys' locker room door to Gym class, my own personal hell if there ever was one.

After I was done with that ordeal, I walked towards the office to return my paperwork. When I went inside, I suddenly froze.

Edythe Cullen stood at the desk in front of me; the hair was impossible to miss. She didn't seem to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood close to the back wall, waiting for her to finish.

She was arguing with him in a low, velvety voice. I quietly picked up the gist of the argument. She was trying to switch from sixth-hour Biology to another time-any other time.

You and me both, I thought. Actually I never wanted Biology at all. Physics would've been a thousand times better, but apparently it was full.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, waving through my hair. The girl who came in placed a note in the wire basket and walked out again. But bimbo's back stiffened, and she turned slowly to glare at me- damn, she was good-looking-with piercing, hate-filled eyes. I actually began to feel afraid of her. As if she were going to pull a gun out and shoot me. But of course that was ridiculous, and if the bimbo did attack me, I could easily take her down. So why did I still feel afraid?

She suddenly turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind then," she said quickly in a voice like silk. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help". She then turned on her heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

Momentarily distraught, I went to the front desk, and handed him the signed slip.

"How did your first day go, son?" he asked.

Regaining my composure, I thought for a moment about everything that had happened: the Cullens, the Hales, and Edythe staring at me as if she wanted to kill me (and who knows, maybe she did).

I stared at a spot somewhere above his head. "It was...very interesting. "

Author's note- _Aside from obvious differences in personality and interests, you may have noticed that I changed Beau's skin color from white to tan. I did this for two reasons:he lived in Phoenix most of his life, and I found it somewhat difficult to believe that so many girls would be attracted to someone as pale as he is (or was). Anyway, thanks for reading the first chapter_!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Author's note- _Thanks to all the people who have read and reviewed my work! I'm currently working on the other chapters, so you likely won't have to wait as long._

 _Update (2/27/16) - I'm always making minor corrections and adjustments to individual chapters, so if you go back to one and notice anything different, it's probably not your imagination, just me trying to make the story more consistent (and improving dialogue, sentence structure, etc.)._

"The optimist thinks this is the best of all possible worlds. The pessimist fears it is true." J. Robert Oppenheimer

The next day was less eventful, for which I was both grateful and disappointed. I began to hang out with a big group at lunch that included McKayla, Erica, Jeremy, Allen, and several other people whose names and faces I was actually starting to remember. I felt tired, though, unable to sleep with the rain beating on the house. As far as classes went, Trigonometry was my favorite; I had already acquired a reputation as a math whiz, and the students constantly tried to get my help. Ms. Varner, who hadn't given up trying to outsmart me, was always coming up with advanced calculus problems for me to figure out when I wasn't busy helping the other students _._

Gym, on the other hand… I preferred not to think about it. I'd always been useless at sports, and volleyball was no exception. The rest of the classes were somewhere in between. I often spoke about politics with my government teacher; we both more or less hated our current president and delighted in mocking him.

But when I walked into lunch, I noticed, to my surprise, that Edythe wasn't there. She was in fact the only one missing; the rest of her adopted siblings were sitting at the same table.

It's all just as well, I thought. She's a distraction. Still, I had to admit there was a part of me that wished she'd shown up.

McKayla intercepted us and steered us to her table. Jeremy, who seemed thrilled by the attention, joined us along with the rest of his friends. While there, we engaged in mostly meaningless small talk. I began feeling a strange sense of belonging, something I'd never felt in Phoenix, at least since... no, it was best not to think about it. I was actually starting to see these people as friends.

Biology, I had to admit, was less interesting without Edythe, and it seemed to encourage McKayla, who I noticed was beginning to act rather territorial with me. This was the last thing I needed. I'd sworn since I was 13 that I would never marry or even date a girl who was less intelligent than I was, and although McKayla seemed like a decent human being (and a good-looking one, too), she did not match my criteria.

After class I hurried out to the parking lot, which was now crowded with fleeing students. I got in my truck and dug through my backpack to make sure I had what I needed.

It was no secret that Charlie couldn't cook worth a damn besides fried eggs and bacon. He allowed me to take over kitchen duty, which also meant having to buy groceries. Oh well. I could probably make a better meal than him with my hands tied behind my back.

I turned on the ignition, and the engine roared to life. I backed into the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited calmly, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins walking up to their car. It was a shiny new Volvo. I also hadn't noticed their clothes before; now that I looked, it was obvious that they were all wearing stuff that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, or anyone else's, for that matter. Pretentious pricks. Why did they need to dress better than anyone else, especially in a school like this? Were they trying to get attention? Clearly not; I'd never seen them hang out or even speak to anyone else, save the teachers and staff. They probably wanted to rub it in our faces that they were rich and we were not. Now that I thought about it, that was probably one of the reasons why they didn't have friends, which served them right. I sighed inwardly; I knew that it was partly jealousy, and partly my past experiences with rich people, but I couldn't fathom why these elitist snobs came to this school.

They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them. I noticed that the tall blond male (Royal, if I remembered correctly) had his hand on the hip of the tall athletic girl with the dark curly hair. They were about the same height and seemed a little too comfortable touching each other. Jeremy had said they were foster kids, but to me they looked like boyfriend and girlfriend. Disturbing. I decided to ignore the two (either one of whom could probably beat the crap out of me if they caught me staring) and drove to the Thriftway to buy what I needed.

Once I got home I unloaded and organized all the groceries and set about preparing dinner. While dinner was cooking I suddenly remembered that I hadn't contacted my mom since leaving the airport. She was often paranoid and at this point was probably panicking, thinking something had gone wrong.

I sent her an email informing her about my time here and assuaged her concerns (she could be so dramatic).

Just then I heard the front door open and a voice call out "Beau?"

It was my father. "Hey Dad." I decided to go downstairs to make sure the potatoes weren't overcooked.

"What's for dinner?" he asked warily. Mom was an imaginative cook, when she bothered, and her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, and sad, that he seemed to remember that far back.

"Steak and potatoes," I answered. Charlie looked relieved.

We ate in silence for a few minutes before he asked about my day. I spoke about my acquaintances (I didn't think of them as friends yet). When I mentioned the Cullen family and made a few rather innocuous remarks about them, he suddenly grew angry and made the longest speech I'd ever heard from him. I was taken aback by how fiercely he defended them.

"Well," I said, "everyone's entitled to his or her opinion, but I still think there's something strange about them".

And that was that. The relaxed mood was broken, all because he felt compelled to defend some wealthy people he barely knew from the critiques of his own son.

He went back to the TV, leaving me to wash the dishes, as if to punish me. Like the fact that I'd cooked for him wasn't enough. I only washed my plates, leaving the rest for him.

I went upstairs to study Godel's First Incompleteness Theorem. It was one of the theorems about mathematical logic that most bothered me; how was it possible that any nontrivial axiomatic system capable of arithmetic faced fundamental limits in both consistency and completeness? It seemed to go against everything I'd been led to believe about mathematics. The more I read about it the more it aggravated me. Finally, frustrated beyond measure, I turned off my computer and climbed into bed. That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep, exhausted.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I became accustomed to the routine of my classes. I spent much of my time reading math and physics books I'd checked out from the library and working out problems, since most of the schoolwork was embarrassingly simple. Unfortunately, I could not do that in Gym, the class I most desperately wished to avoid, but I learned to deal with it.

At lunch I learned that McKayla was putting together a trip to the La Push Ocean Park two weeks from now. I was invited and agreed to go, more out of politeness than a sincere desire to go to the beach, although I realized I probably needed to go out a little more.

By Friday I'd almost entirely forgotten about Edythe; that mentally unstable creature had probably dropped out, and good riddance.  
I spent much of my weekend searching for scholarships. Though my experience here had been largely positive so far, I had no intention of remaining in this secluded town for the rest of my life, or even the next few years. I was determined to make the most out of my life, and that did not involve living in Forks.

Next Monday was colder than usual, and after walking out of English class with McKayla I noticed it was actually snowing.

"Finally!" McKayla exclaimed. "I really missed the snow."

I was wondering if she was being sarcastic, but said nothing.

"Don't you like snow?" she asked.

"I never cared much about it, on Earth anyway. But you know what I find interesting?"

"What?" McKayla seemed intensely curious.

"On Io, one of the moons of Jupiter, it actually snows sulfur dioxide. On Earth it's normally a gas, but the mean surface temperature on Io is 110 Kelvin, which is about 260 degrees Fahrenheit below zero, so the SO2, which comes from volcanic eruptions, forms snowflakes and falls to the surface. Cool, right? In more ways than one."

Her jaw had dropped. "How do you know all of this?"

"I've always loved astronomy." I tried, but didn't entirely succeed, in suppressing a smile.

Suddenly a big, wet ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of McKayla's head. We quickly turned around and saw Erica, who was walking away, in the wrong direction for her next class. Not wanting to stay around for the ensuing catfight lest I get hit, I said goodbye to Erica and walked to class. I kept a sharp lookout along the way with Jeremy after Spanish. Mush balls were flying everywhere; they rather reminded me of comets, though they were far less beautiful. I had a binder in my hands, ready to use as a shield. Jeremy seemed to find this amusing, although he showed no inclination to throw a snowball at me himself.

McKayla caught up to us as we walked into the cafeteria, laughing, her usually sleek hair turning frizzy from the wet. She and Jeremy were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I casually glanced at the Cullen table in the corner. I could not believe my eyes.

It seemed the prodigal daughter had returned.

Jeremy pulled on my arm.

"Hey? Beau? What are you getting?"

I returned to reality. "Sorry, I was thinking about something else". I selected my food and got out of their way.

We walked towards our usual table, but my mind, as usual, was elsewhere. Why had the bronze bimbo come back? Did she really think she could get away with missing a whole week just like that? There were too many unanswered questions, and I wanted answers.

"Beau", McKayla asked, "what's wrong?"

I looked at her and smiled. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

I needed a distraction. I held my can of soda. "Do you think these things should be sold in school?"

"Why not?" Jeremy replied.

"It's loaded with high fructose corn syrup as well as carbonic acid, which accelerates tooth decay and causes numerous health problems."

They thought about that for a moment.

"So what should we have instead?" McKayla asked.

"There's plenty of alternatives, from bottled water to fruit juice. Carbonated water has been making people lose teeth and gain calories for over 100 years. I think it's time for a change."

Jeremy and McKayla exchanged looks. Jeremy seemed amused, but McKayla never opened her soda.

After I finished eating, I looked at the Cullen table again. There they were, the five albinos, laughing and enjoying the snowy day. I noticed something else about them as well. They no longer had dark circles under their eyes. Edythe, who I was watching closely, had a slightly darker skin tone. Her hair was darker as well, wet and slicked down against her head. But there was something else, something I couldn't put my finger on.

"What are you staring at, Beau?" Jeremy asked.

At that exact moment, Edythe's eyes flashed over to meet mine. I turned away, feigning indifference, but I was acutely interested. Because in the instant our eyes had met, she had not shown a trace of the anger or disgust she had the last time I'd seen her. She merely looked curious, unsatisfied in some way.

"Edythe Cullen is staring at you," Jeremy said, looking over my shoulder.

I shrugged. "Let the bimbo stare".

"Come on" Jeremy said. "Stop pretending you don't care. I saw you looking at her".

"I was simply curious as to why someone who hadn't come in almost a week could show up as if nothing had happened."

"You sure it's not something else?" Jeremy teased.

"Let me make this clear. I am not remotely interested in going out with the bronze bimbo. And even if I was, that would hardly be any of your business. "

"Um, ok." Jeremy did not press his point further.

McKayla looked pleased. " So you guys want to go play snowball outside?"

"Sure" I replied, grateful for the distraction.

Jeremy agreed enthusiastically. The poor fool seemed like he would agree with anything she suggested. If anyone was looking for a date, it was him. Oh well; that wasn't my problem.

But as I walked to Biology, I noticed that it was raining outside, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. I actually felt sorry for McKayla, but there was nothing I could do.

She kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

Once inside the classroom, I settled myself and pulled out my personal physics notebook. Mrs. Banner was walking around the room, distributing supplies, but I paid no attention to her. The room buzzed with conversation, but I was busy focusing on an electrostatics problem involving Gauss's Law.

I was so preoccupied with the problem I barely noticed the chair next to me more.

"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.

I looked up, shocked that she was speaking to me. She was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but her chair was angled toward me. Her hair was dripping wet, tangled- even so, she looked like she'd just finished shooting a commercial. Her perfect face was friendly, open, a slight smile on her full pink lips. But her long eyes were careful.

"My name is Edythe Cullen," she continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week".

Really? I thought.

"You must be-"

"Call me Swan. Beau Swan."

She giggled, apparently understanding the reference. But I said it so she'd avoid uttering my horrible name, because I was going to enjoy wiping that smile off her face.

"So," I said. "I'm guessing you took your medication today."

She scowled angrily at me but chose to ignore my comment. Who did she think she was? Did she believe everything would be normal after what happened last week?

At that moment, Mrs. Banner started class. I paid her no attention and continued to work on my physics problems. I already knew what this lab was about anyway.

"Get started," she commanded.

"Ladies first, partner?" Edythe asked. I looked up to see her giving me a charming dimpled smile. Amazing. Not just her smile, but the fact that my comment didn't seem to bother her. Most girls I knew would have slapped me for saying something so insensitive.

That was good, because it meant I wouldn't have to waste my time with this lab.

"Go ahead."

"And while you're at it," I added, "why not do the entire lab on your own? It's a good way of catching up for all the days you missed. I still need to finish some problems on Gaussian surfaces."

"Are you always this considerate?" she asked icily.

"Usually," I replied blandly. Only with people who looked like they were planning to murder me.

I went back to my work as she studied the slide under the microscope.

"Prophase," she said, and wrote the word on the top line of our worksheet. I was too busy to care. How was electrical charge distributed in a coaxial cable? Yet another vexing formula I was determined to derive.

She moved the next slide into place just as I realized the key to solving the problem. The solution lay in treating the coaxial cable as an infinitely long charged wire of linear density lambda, the charge distribution of which I'd already derived. Everything else fell into place from there. Just as I finished, I heard Mrs. Banner call out, "Miss Cullen?"

"Yes, Mrs. Banner?" Edythe slid the microscope toward me as she spoke.

"Perhaps you should let Mr. Swan have an opportunity to learn?"

"Of course, Mrs. Banner."

Edythe turned and gave me a rather spiteful little smile.

"Alright", I told Edythe softly as Mrs. Banner turned away. "But can you double-check my work in the meantime?"

I bent down to look through the eyepiece as she studied my handwriting, which I grudgingly admitted was far less elegant than her own.

"Metaphase," I said. I turned to look at her, but she was still studying my handiwork.

"Wow," she said, a stunned look on her face. "Do you spend most of your time doing this?"

"As a matter of fact I do. It's a form of escape from the drudgery of everyday living."

"Well, I don't know much about physics, so I can't tell you if this is right or not. But I can tell you if you read the slide correctly, which I believe is a little more pertinent."

She noticed I'd begun to remove the slide, and her hand caught mine, to stop me, as she was speaking. Her fingers were ice cold, as if she'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't why I removed my hand so quickly. When she touched me, it stung my hand like a low-voltage electric shock.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, quickly pulling her hand back, though she continued to reach for the microscope. I watched her, curious, as she examined the slide for a small fraction of a second.

"Metaphase," she agreed, then slid the microscope back to me.

"Hold on," I said, suspicious. "You barely even looked at the slide. Are you sure it was metaphase, or are you just going along with what I said?"

"It's metaphase, Beau," she replied firmly. "I don't need to stare at the slide for half an hour to know that".

I let it go. "Well", I said. "The last slide certainly isn't a mystery. I'll write the last two, if you don't mind. I know you have much better handwriting, but I'm not letting you take credit for all of the work."

Edythe just smiled but didn't say a word.

We were finished before anyone else was close. I had to admit I'd underestimated Edythe. I assumed she was just a diva, but she certainly seemed to know about Biology. Maybe that was her favorite subject; it certainly wasn't physics.

I looked at her and caught her staring at me, that same strange look of frustration in her eyes. Suddenly I identified that elusive difference in her face.

"Your eyes look different" I muttered.

That caught her off guard. "What?"

"They're golden now. When I first saw you, they were black. Which means you either got contacts or you have some strange ocular affliction. So which is it, if I may ask?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said flatly, and looked away.

"I'm sure you don't." Playing games again, are we? Capricious little girl. But what motive would she have for concealing that from me? It didn't make any sense.

Mrs. Banner came to our table then, looking over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and stared intently at our answers, but could find nothing objectionable.

I needed to stop thinking about this girl. "If I may make a suggestion, Mrs. Banner. Maybe we should have a another lab. Something a little more interactive than looking at slides."

"Like what, exactly?" She sounded interested.

"I was thinking a lab where we could study biological enzymes in action, like catalase."

She smiled. "Well, the students could barely get through this. I doubt they could handle the enzyme lab. And besides, supplies for that lab aren't cheap. We have to work with what we have."

I merely nodded, and she walked away. I grabbed my physics notebook and began to work on another problem, this one involving 3-dimensional vectors.

"So," Edythe began, "I hear you're calling me "bronze bimbo" behind my back."

"It's a well-deserved name. But who told you?"

"I have friends too, believe it or not," she replied, rather edgily.

But she didn't press it any further, knowing where it would lead. That was just as well; I would figure her out eventually.

"So what brings you to Forks?" she asked.

"I wanted to observe the Northern Lights."

She laughed. "Then you came to the wrong place. The clouds almost never go away. You might want to try Greenland, or Alaska."

But she kept looking at me. Did she actually want to know the story of my life? I met her gaze and regretted it. Her long, dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered almost without thinking.

"My mother got remarried."

"And you didn't like him?" she asked, her voice soft.

"No, it wasn't that. His name's Phil. He's a decent guy, but I'd grown tired of having to take care of my mom. Now that she had him, I could finally move on with my life to bigger and better things."

She seemed taken aback. "So you just left her there with him?"

"More or less. The only way she could mature was by taking some responsibility for her life. I wasn't going to be there forever, and I have my own dreams."

"What kinds of dreams?" she asked carefully.

"Going to an Ivy Leave University, becoming a professor of physics and mathematics, unraveling the mysteries of the universe, winning the Nobel Prize. That sort of thing."

"Sounds like you have very high standards for yourself. But is that really what you want?" Her voice was kind, and she continued to stare at me with penetrating eyes. It was flattering, I had to admit, but also puzzling. Was I really that interesting to her? Granted, it wasn't every day you met someone who planned to become an Ivy League professor and a Nobel laureate (and had shown he could do it), but she seemed inordinately curious.

"Of course. I've loved math and science ever since I was three. I could never dream of doing anything else."

"I believe you, but it seems like you want to escape your family more than anything."

"I don't need them holding me back."

She flinched. "Is that really how you feel?" I heard sorrow in her voice.

"We're on very different paths, that's all."

Her head tilted to the side, and her gold eyes seemed to laser right through the surface of my skin. "You put on a good show," she said slowly. "And you may be the most intelligent person I've ever met. But deep down I think you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

I looked at her. She was such a fascinating creature. "Maybe. But you could say that about almost anyone. What makes me so special to you?"

"I don't entirely understand you, that's all."

"I don' t understand you either, but I'm not the one asking all the questions."

She fell silent, but she continued to look at me. I turned toward the blackboard, and as I did I heard her sigh.

I glanced back and saw that she was still looking at me, but her expression was different… a little frustrated, or irritated.

"Is something the matter?" I asked, more out of curiosity than genuine concern.

She cocked her head to one side. "Reading people… it usually comes very easily to me. But I can't- I guess I don't know what to make of you."

"It seems to me," I said slowly, "that you show too much interest in knowing people as individuals. But people are usually the product of their environment. What really matters are ideas, because ideas are what ultimately motivate people. Try spending less time looking and more time reading."

She didn't seem to be paying attention to what I said. Maybe she wasn't so different from the rest of the students after all. She was glaring into my eyes, not angry like before, but intense. It was as if she was trying to read my mind, though of course that was preposterous. Then, switching gears just as abruptly, she was smiling again.

"I guess I've gotten overconfident."

What the hell was she talking about? "I'm sorry?"

She laughed, and the sound was like music, though I couldn't think of the instrument to compare it to. Maybe she really was a diva. Her teeth were perfect and blindingly white. But I supposed almost anything was possible when you were rich and had nothing better to do.

When the bell rang, Edythe rushed as swiftly and gracefully from the room as she had last Monday. I stared at her, intrigued. When I'd first seen her, I assumed she was just as shallow and self-absorbed as the other girls I'd known in Phoenix, yet here she was, wanting to know about my life. And while my first impression of her didn't seem to be entirely incorrect, there was clearly a lot more to this girl than I initially thought.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note_ \- Thanks again to everyone who's read and reviewed my work! You'll notice the story starts taking a darker turn. I don't want to spoil things, so read on!

 _All the effects of Nature are only the mathematical consequences of a small number of immutable laws_. - Pierre Simon de Laplace

Chapter 3

When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different.

It was the light. It was still the gloomy light of a cloudy day in the forest, but there was no longer any fog obscuring the window. I walked towards the window and then groaned.

A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the road. This wouldn't have bothered me, except that all of the rain from yesterday had frozen solid- coating the needles on the trees in various patterns and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. I'd have to drive more cautiously now, or I'd end up destroying someone's car.

Charlie had already left for work, apparently. He always took his job seriously, a trait I admired (and in short supply nowadays). I ate some cereal and orange juice before getting ready for school, feeling oddly excited, though I wasn't sure why. Or maybe I just didn't want to admit it…

I carefully made it down the icy brick driveway, not wanting to bash my skull against the ground, and got to the truck. I noticed, then, that Charlie had placed snow chains on the tires of my truck. I smiled; the man was always prepared. He was so unlike my mother; I briefly wondered how they'd fallen in love. I shook my head; some things I would never understand.

I got off the truck at school, thinking about what I had told Edythe about running away from my parents. It wasn't exactly true; I'd been running away from Phoenix. I stood behind the truck, enjoying the breeze. I'd had a much warmer reception here than I ever did in Phoenix; ironic, considering how much colder the weather was in Forks. I doubted I would ever go back, except to visit my mother and the few friends I'd managed to make.

Suddenly I heard a strange sound. It was a high-pitched screech, and almost as soon as I registered it, the sound was already painfully loud. I looked up, startled.

I saw several things simultaneously; the neurotransmitters in my brain had kicked into overdrive, making my brain work faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail a few things all at once.

Edythe Cullen was standing four cars down from me, mouth open in horror. Her face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. I realized why; a dark blue van was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot, headed right towards me.

For a split second I wondered if it was possible to calculate the angular momentum and linear velocity of the truck heading toward me.

Enough to kill you. Move!

I jumped out of the way just before hearing the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, and hit my head hard against the icy blacktop. Painfully, I turned to assess the damage to my truck.

You can't be serious, I thought.

The van was _still_ coming. It had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, was about to collide with me again.

Then, out of nowhere, two thin, white hands shot out in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the pale hands fitting exactly into a deep dent in the side of the van's body. I turned, astonished, to look at Edythe Cullen standing between me and the truck.

What. The. Hell.

Then her hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a rag doll's, till they hit the tire of the tan car. There was a groaning metallic thud so loud it hurt my ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt- exactly where, a second ago, my legs had been.

It was perfectly silent for one long second. Then the screaming began. In the abrupt chaos, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edythe Cullen's low, frantic voice in my ear.

"Beau? Are you all right?"

"I think so." My voice sounded strange. I tried to sit up, and realized she was holding me up against the side of her body. I must have been more traumatized than I realized, because I couldn't budge her arm at all. Was I weak with shock?

"Be careful," she warned as I struggled. "I think you hit your head pretty hard."

"Tell me something I don't know," I replied, clutching the side of my head.

I looked at her face, and realized she was trying not to laugh. Talk about kicking a man when he's down. But that wasn't important.

"How did you get over here so fast?" I asked her.

"I was standing right next to you, Beau," she said, no longer looking amused.

I turned to sit up, and this time she helped me, but then she slid as far from me as she could in the limited space. I looked at her concerned, innocent expression, and was disoriented by her gold-colored eyes. Focus, I told myself. Don't let her distract you.

And then they found us, a crowd of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other and at us.

"Don't move," someone instructed.

"Get Taylor out of the van!" someone else shouted. There was a flurry of activity around us, like ants in an anthill. I tried to get up, but Edythe's hand pushed my shoulder down.

"Just stay put for now."

"It's cold," I complained. It surprised me when she chuckled under her breath. That was the last straw. She had some explaining to do.

"You were over there," I said, my voice as cold as the surrounding ice. "You were right by your car."

Her expression hardened abruptly, and she responded in a tone as frigid as mine. "No I wasn't."

" I saw you." How stupid did she think I was? She came out of nowhere, having stood among the crowd of students watching me in terror, yet she expected me to believe she had been standing beside me the whole time? Even if she had been, how the hell had she managed to stop the truck with her bare hands?

"Beau, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way."

She stared at me, and something strange happened. It was like the gold of her eyes turned up, like her eyes were trying to drug me, to hypnotize me. It was uncanny, but strangely exciting at the same time. Her anxious expression betrayed her, however; it seemed as if she was trying to communicate something crucial.

I sighed inwardly. I would not get anything more from this girl. If I wanted to find the truth, I would have to do so on my own.

I touched the spot on my head where I'd hit the ice, and winced in pain.

"You're right," I said, flashing her a crooked smile. " I think I _did_ hit my head pretty hard."

"Yes you did," Edythe replied, returning my smile, looking immensely relieved.

It took six EMTs and two teachers- Ms. Varnet and Coach Clapp- to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Edythe insisted she hadn't been touched, and I was about to do the same before remembering what I'd told her; I had a role to play. But that did nothing to mitigate the embarrassment when they put on the neck brace. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly (I hoped; I would never forgive Taylor if she had been drinking) as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Edythe got to ride in the front. It was a thousand times more humiliating than I'd imagined today would be, and I hadn't even made it to the sidewalk.

To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get me safely away.

"Beau!" he yelled in panic when he recognized me on the stretcher.

"I'm completely fine, Dad," I said impatiently. Edythe wasn't within earshot. "There's nothing wrong with me."

He rounded on the closest EMT for a second opinion. While the EMT tried to talk him down, I tuned them out to consider the jumble of absurd images churning in my head – images that should not have been possible. When they'd lifted me away from the car, I'd seen the deep dent in the tan car's bumper – a very distinct dent that fit the slim shape of Edythe's shoulders… as if she had braced herself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame… I found myself trying to figure out what the kinetic energy of that truck had been.

I noticed then, Edythe's family looking on from a distance, with expressions that ranged from disapproval (Eleanor) to fury (Royal) but held no hint of concern for their little sister's safety. Odd. Didn't they care about her at all?

I went back to the physics problem at hand. The truck probably weighed about 2500 kg and was moving towards me at approximately 25 kilometers per hour. This meant the truck had a kinetic energy of roughly 39,000 joules. Of course that was ignoring the fact that the truck was spinning, which made the calculations more complicated, since the moment of inertia and rotational velocity would have to be taken into account, both of which were more difficult to determine. Needless to say, it would require a tremendous amount of energy to stop the truck. And yet Edythe had done it with her bare hands. Was she even a human? I couldn't arrive at a logical explanation for what had happened. I had to stop thinking about it, or it would drive me crazy.

The ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital (nepotism, I thought). I felt ridiculous the whole time they were unloading me. What made it worse was that Edythe simply glided through the hospital doors on her own.

Who are you, Edythe? I thought.

They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue. Since no one bothered pulling the curtain around to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn't obligated to wear the embarrassing neck brace anymore. As soon as the nurse walked away, I quickly unfastened the Velcro and threw it under the bed.

There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcher brought to the bed next to me. I recognized Taylor Crowley from my Government class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around her head. Taylor looked a hundred times worse than I felt. But she was staring anxiously at me.

"Beau, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Taylor – you look awful, are you all right?" I suddenly felt guilty for thinking she was drunk; even if she had been, which was unlikely, she didn't deserve this.

As we spoke, nurses began unwinding her bloody bandages, exposing dozens of shallow slices all over her forehead and left cheek.

She ignored me. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong…" She winced as one nurse started dabbing at her face.

"Don't worry about it; I got out of the way."

"Just in time." She looked very apologetic, but that was understandable, considering how close she'd been to ending my life.

They wheeled me away then, to X-ray my head. I told them there was nothing wrong, and I was right. Not even a concussion. I asked if I could leave, but the nurse said I had to talk to a doctor first. So I was trapped in the ER, harassed by Taylor's constant apologies and promises to make it up to me. Not matter how many times I tried to convince her I was fine, she continued to beg for forgiveness. Finally, I closed my eyes and tried to ignore her.

"Is he sleeping?" a musical voice asked. My eyes flew open.

Edythe was standing at the foot of my bed, smiling. I stared at her, wondering how much she weighed compared to the truck. Not more than 60 kg, probably. Yet she had stopped a truck weighing almost 3000. It was too bizarre to contemplate.

"Hey, um, Edythe, I'm really sorry-" Taylor began.

Edythe lifted a hand to stop her.

"No blood, no foul," she said, flashing her bright white teeth. She moved to sit on the edge of Taylor's bed, facing me. She smiled again.

"So, what's the verdict?" she asked me.

"A bump on the head," I said. "Why aren't you strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?"

"It's all about who you know," she answered. "But don't worry, I came to spring you."

Then a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. She was young, blond, and more beautiful than any movie star I'd ever seen. She was pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under her dark eyes. I glanced at her name tag: Carine Cullen. So this was Edythe's mother, apparently.

"So, Mr. Swan," Dr. Cullen asked in a gentle voice, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm good," I said. "You're the youngest doctor I've ever seen. No offense." And the best-looking one too, I added silently. Her husband was a _very_ lucky man.

"None taken," she said, smiling. She walked to the lightboard on the wall over my head, and turned it on.

"Your X-rays look good," she said. "Does your head hurt? Edythe said you hit it pretty hard."

"She was being a little dramatic," I replied, deliberately avoiding Edythe's gaze.

The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. She noticed when I winced.

"Tender?" she asked.

"Not really." I'd had worse. Much worse.

I heard a low laugh, and looked over to see Edythe smiling.

"Well, your father is in the waiting room- you can go home with him now. But cone back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all."

"Alright," I said, though I had little intention of spending the rest of the day with Charlie.

"By the way," Dr. Cullen added, "most of the school is in the waiting room."

"Really?" I asked. "I didn't know I was that popular." They all had a good laugh out of that.

"Well, you might want to take some Tylenol for the pain, just in case. But it sounds like you were very fortunate." Dr. Cullen smiled as she signed my chart with a flourish.

"Fortunate Edythe just happened to be standing next to me," I amended, shooting a glance at the subject of my statement.

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of her. Then she looked away, at Taylor, and walked to the next bed. It seems the good doctor was in on it as well. This was getting even more interesting.

As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I moved to Edythe's side.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I whispered under my breath. She took a step back from me, her jaw suddenly clenched.

"Your father is waiting for you," she said through her teeth.

"I need to speak with you alone," I pressed.

She glared, but without the homicidal intent I'd witnessed the first day, so I waited. After a second, she turned her back and stalked quickly down the long room. Long as my legs are, I nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, she spun around to face me.

"What do you want?" she asked, sounding annoyed. Her eyes were cold.

"Calm down; you don't even know what I'm going to say. I wanted to thank you for saving my life."

"Oh." She seemed bewildered, without any trace of her former hostility. "You're welcome. But why drag me all the way over here just for that?"

"I also wanted to apologize for the way I treated you before, in Biology. It was wrong for me to behave the way I did." I was being sincere, though I also wanted to see her reaction.

She looked at me, and smiled. "It's okay. But try not to act like that with the other students."

"Well, now, that might be asking a little too much, " I said, grinning.

She was grinning now too. "You know you're the smartest student in the school. You don't constantly need to remind everyone."

"All joking aside, though," I continued. "I don't know how I could ever repay you."

She avoided my gaze. "You don't have to, Beau. I did what anyone else would've done in the same situation."

Which no one else _could've_ done. "Ok. But if you need any help with your homework, just let me know."

She looked amused. "I'll remember that."

I turned and walked towards the exit and the end of the hallway, still somewhat disoriented. I turned around to look at her perfect face one last time. She smiled at me sadly, and walked away.

"Well well, if it isn't the son of the police chief. " The Man, a Caucasian in his mid-thirties, gave me a mock-friendly smile.

"Whatever. You know what I came for."

"You have the money?" He glanced around furtively, making sure no one else was nearby.

Reluctantly, I handed him the cash. I'd told myself after leaving Phoenix that I wouldn't do this anymore, but old habits died hard.

"Alright, then." He handed me the merchandise. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Swan."

"You promise not to let anyone know about this?" I asked.

"If anyone finds out, it won't be on me," he replied. "I have a lot more to lose than you do."

"Fair enough." I loaded the merchandise onto the truck and drove away, hoping I'd never see the Man again.

When I was far enough, I stopped, unable to hold back any longer. I found the pipe and dug for the lighter in my pocket. I then opened the bag containing the heroin, smiling in spite of my better judgment. Forget Tylenol; _this_ was the clinically proven way to eliminate pain.

When I finally started inhaling, I felt like I was in heaven. No more headaches or pains, no more obsessing over the bimbo, no more thoughts about my childhood memories. It was bliss, and I never wanted it to end. I gazed up at the night sky, euphoric. The world brimmed with possibilities for people like me. In these moments, I felt like the king of the world.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 _Two paradoxes are better than one. They may even suggest a solution_. - Edward Teller

The month that followed the accident began somewhat uneasily, though it brightened considerably later on.

I found myself the center of attention for the rest of the week, which was rather irritating. Taylor Crowley, in particular, was becoming insufferable; she constantly followed me around, trying to make amends for what she had done. I tried convincing her to let it go, but it was no use. She found me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table. McKayla and Erica weren't pleased; they flashed more side-eye at her than each other, which made me worry that I'd gained another unwelcome fan. But maybe I could turn this to my advantage.

No one was worried about Edythe- no one followed her around or asked for her eyewitness account. It was as if she didn't exist. Didn't they realize she had saved me? What was wrong with these people?

And just as everyone else was avoiding Edythe, she now seemed to be avoiding me. When she sat beside me in class, as far away as possible (as usual), she seemed completely unaware that I was sitting there next to her. Only now and then, when her fists would suddenly ball up-skin stretched even whiter over her knuckles- did I wonder if she wasn't as entirely oblivious as she seemed.

I had no idea why she was acting that way. I apologized and thanked her for saving my life. I'd played dumb, entirely for her benefit. We had actually been getting along, and yet here she was, pretending I didn't exist. She was a bimbo, through and through.

She was already in her chair when I got to Biology. She didn't turn when I sat down; she just kept staring straight ahead. She showed no sign that she knew I was there. It was time for me to do the same. I sat down beside her, pulled out my physics notebook, and started writing.

I'd also had to deal with my mother's frantic emails demanding to know how I was doing since the accident. I tried being reassuring, but she was not convinced, and she called me several times, wanting to make sure I was fine.

McKayla was pleased by the obvious coolness between my lab partner and me. I guessed she'd been worried that the shared trauma might have bonded us together, but she'd quickly been disabused of that notion. She got more confident, sitting on the edge of my table to talk before Biology class started. I began to wonder what it might be like to have a deeper relationship with her. She always seemed interested in what I did. Even if she didn't have the slightest idea what I was doing, she would always try to find out more. For my part, I tried to explain it to her in layman's terms, although it wasn't easy; I was typically dealing with advanced topics in chemistry, physics, or mathematics. And of course, she would always ask for help with homework, although I knew it wasn't purely self-interest; she really enjoyed talking to me, and I realized that I was beginning to enjoy talking to her as well. We were both looking forward to the beach trip.

Although I was usually keenly aware of the passage of time, Forks didn't seem to change with the passing of the seasons. An objective observer could hardly have guessed that it was already spring. I was walking towards the cafeteria, thinking about Martian seasons, when Jeremy approached one rainy morning.

"Hey, Beau?" he asked.

I had no desire to linger out in the rain, and hurried inside the building, where I waited for him to catch up.

"What's up?"

" I was just wondering if anyone had asked you to the spring dance yet. You know, it's girls' choice."

"No, not yet," I replied. "Why?"

"Do you think McKayla will ask you?"

"Possibly," I said. I hadn't given much thought to the dance, but she seemed like a good partner.

Jeremy seemed dejected. Oh, that's right, I thought. He has a crush on her. To think; there's at least three different girls who seem to like me, and no one who seems to like Jeremy. I felt pity for him.

"I'm sure someone will ask you out," I said casually. "Don't worry. And when is the dance anyway?"

"A week from Saturday," he answered, trying to look cheerful.

I didn't have to wait long; McKayla asked me out the very next day during Biology.

"I'd love to," I said, smiling.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down. Several of the students turned to look at her.

I was amused by her enthusiasm. I smirked at her. "I'll have to brush up on my dancing skills, though. It's been awhile."

"I'll teach you," she said, grinning. "Thanks, Beau, you just made my day."

Her joy was contagious. "You're welcome. It should be fun."

Just then, I noticed Edythe staring straight at me, that familiar expression of frustration even more obvious now in her black eyes. There was something else as well…disappointment? Was she actually jealous that McKayla asked me out and I said yes? Unbelievable.

Thankfully, Ms. Banner started talking, but Edythe continued to look at me, her eyes boring into mine, as if she was trying to find something important inside them.

"It's rude to stare, you know," I said, loud enough for some of the students to hear. What was her problem?

She immediately broke her gaze. Just then, Ms. Banner called out her name, looking for the answer to a problem regarding cellular processes.

"The Krebs Cycle," Edythe replied, turning reluctantly to face Ms. Banner.

Lucky guess, I thought. She hadn't been paying Ms. Banner any attention.

I went back to writing on my physics notebook, working on a problem utilizing the heat equation. These types of problems were notoriously difficult; I was trying to solve a parabolic partial differential equation in three dimensions. It would probably take me the rest of the school day.

The bell rang, but I stayed in my seat, too focused on the problem at hand. The Laplace operator would be integral for simplifying the heat equation, but I had my work cut out for me. Wasn't it fascinating, though, that this equation actually violated special relativity? It actually lent some credence to the idiots who insisted that Einstein was wrong; that such a well-established equation conflicted with one of Einstein's most important contributions to science, second only to general relativity. It boggled the mind.

"Beau?"

Great. _Now_ the bimbo wants to talk. "Leave me alone. I'm busy."

She ignored me. "So you're really going with McKayla to the dance?"

"Yes I am. Does that bother you?" I turned to look at her. She had a strange expression; the disappointment was still there, but it was mingled with relief as well.

"No," she replied, although she could tell I wasn't entirely convinced. "I'm happy for you, that's all."

"Thanks," I replied curtly, and went back to work, trying to ignore her stare.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I'm thinking," I replied calmly, "of the wave propagation of heat in an isotropic and homogeneous medium in three-dimensional space." I paused. "I'll let that sink in."

She shook her head, smiling. "I can't figure out if you're just trying to impress me, or if you're really such a smart-ass."

"Neither," I responded. "My life doesn't revolve around yours, and I always try not to think of such mundane things as high school biology. And why are you talking to me anyway? I thought we'd arrived at an unspoken agreement to ignore each other's existence."

"You're right." Her smile faded. "It's for the best."

"You need help," I said. "You have unpredictable mood swings. You show symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder, and you seem to be malnourished. I'm thinking there might be a connection."

"Anything else I should know about, Dr. Swan?" she asked sarcastically.

"Yes," I replied nonchalantly. "But I'm not a psychiatrist." I rose from my chair and picked up my belongings.

"Au revoir," I said, and left.

I went to Gym, hoping to get my mind off Edythe. Volleyball had been a complete disaster, but we'd now moved on to basketball, something I found I could actually do. I even scored the winning points for my team, and as my teammates congratulated me, I realized I was, for the first time, enjoying something that didn't involve math or reading. But try as I might, I still couldn't stop thinking about her.

After some more friendly banter, I left, wanting some time alone. I saw my truck in the distance and thanked my dad again; although I had to replace the taillights, the truck was in good condition. Taylor's truck, on the other hand, had been sold for parts.

I rounded the corner and nearly had a heart attack. Someone small and thin was leaning against the side of my truck. I skidded to a stop, then took a deep breath. It was just Erica. I started walking again.

"Hi Beau," she said.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Um, I was wondering if you would go to the spring dance with me?"

I carefully inserted the car key into the lock.

"Sorry Erica. I'm going with McKayla."

"Oh, okay."

I had to look at her then. Her face was down, her black hair hiding her eyes. Maybe there was a way to kill two birds with one stone…

"I hear Jeremy doesn't have a partner yet. You might want to ask him before he's taken," I said, smirking.

She glanced up from under her hair. "Okay," she repeated, but her voice was slightly more cheerful now.

"I'll see you at the dance," I said, still smirking.

"See ya," she said over her shoulder. She was already escaping. I looked at her, hoping her and Jeremy would go out; they'd make a good couple.

I heard a low laugh.

Edythe was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, her mouth not betraying even the hint of a smile.

Huh. This girl really _did_ need a psychiatrist. Either that or I was hearing things again. Goddamn heroin. I decided to find out which one it was.

I walked up to her. " I think I heard somebody laughing just now. Do you know who it was?"

"I didn't hear anyone, Dr. Swan," she replied snidely, not bothering to look at me.

Twit. "Oh, never mind then."

I returned to my truck and climbed in, slamming it a little too hard behind me. I revved the deafening engine twice and reversed out into the aisle. Edythe was in her car already, two spaces down, sliding out into the line in front of me, cutting me off. She stopped there – to wait for her family, I assumed. Or maybe that's what she wanted me to think; I could see the four of them walking this way, but they were still all the way back by the cafeteria. I looked in my rearview mirror. A line was beginning to form. Right behind me, Taylor Crowley was in her newly acquired used Sentra, waving. I waved back at her, though I hoped she wouldn't come near me.

While I was sitting there, focusing all my efforts on not staring at the driver in front of me, I heard a knock on my passenger side window. It was Taylor. Great. Her Sentra was still running, the door left open. I leaned across the cab to crank the window down. It was stiff. I got it halfway there, then gave up; it wasn't worth it anyway.

"Sorry, Taylor, I can't move. I'm pinned in." I gestured to the Volvo. I briefly wondered what would happen if I floored the accelerator; I doubt my truck would take much of a beating. Her car, on the other hand…

"Oh I know – I just wanted to ask you something while we're trapped here." She grinned.

Would this never end? Would every girl in this school ask me out? I waited for the inevitable.

"Will you go to the spring dance with me?" she continued.

"No offense, but you're the third person to ask me that. I already told McKayla I'd go with her." I hoped this would put an end to things.

"Yeah, she told me," she admitted.

"Then why – "

She shrugged. "I was hoping you might change your mind."

This girl had even less self-respect than I'd thought. "Yeah, no. But if it makes you feel any better, Jeremy still doesn't have a partner. Maybe you should ask him."

Then I thought about something. She probably wouldn't accept, but it was my olive branch, and it would make me feel better anyway. And if she did come, maybe she could help me buy a few things.

"I'm going to Seattle next Sunday. If you'd like, you can come with me. I know it's not the same as going to the dance, but I get kind of bored driving alone. What do you say?" I looked at her expectantly.

She frowned. "I'd like to, but I doubt my parents would let me after what happened. Thanks though." She suddenly smiled. "See ya."

Before I could say anything, she was walking back to her car. Straight ahead, Archie, Royal, Eleanor, and Jessamine were all sliding into the Volvo. In the rearview mirror, I could see Edythe's eyes staring at me. They were crinkled around the edges, and her shoulders were shaking with laughter. It was like she'd heard our entire conversation. I revved my engine, fantasizing running her over. But of course that would never do.

They were all in now, and Edythe was speeding away with her nearly silent engine.

I tried to concentrate on something else – anything else – as I drove home, trying to suppress my homicidal urges. Would Erica or Taylor ask Jeremy to the dance? Was he jealous of me, angry that McKayla hadn't chosen him? I sighed inwardly; he needed to get over himself. It wasn't my fault that no one had asked him out. I decided to think instead about dinner. I had a particularly good recipe in mind.

When I got home, I immediately started making chicken enchiladas, since it would keep me busy for a while and it would prove more challenging than my homework.

Though I was a damn good cook, if I did say so myself, I usually preferred Italian, but it was always good to try new things.

All the while, though, I thought about my conversation with Edythe in Biology. There was something off about her. I was tempted to dismiss her as a spoiled narcissist, but I felt that was an oversimplification. Why had she even spoken to me in the first place? I'd been getting along just fine, having finally put the mystery of Edythe behind me. Maybe she was toying with me, trying to get me to think that she found me interesting. But why then say that we were better off not speaking to each other? It was as if she _did_ find me interesting but was trying, for reasons unknown, to avoid all contact. The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Ugh; the proof of Fermat's Last Theorem made more sense than this.

In any case, I wouldn't stay in Forks for long. Ivy League universities would probably be tripping over themselves offering me scholarships. I would then become a professor at one of those same universities and unravel the mysteries of the cosmos, just like I'd always dreamed.

That, I thought, was something worth pursuing.

Charlie came in, already anticipating dinner. I still remembered how skeptical he'd been the first time I cooked, but I assured him he'd be hard-pressed to find a better cook elsewhere in Forks (that was willing to cook for him anyway), and he was now confident in my culinary skills.

"Dad?" I asked when he was almost done eating.

"Yeah, Beau?"

"I wanted to let you know that I'm going to Seattle next Sunday, if that's okay.

"Why?" He sounded surprised, as if he couldn't imagine any reason why someone would leave such a wonderful place.

" I need to buy some chemistry supplies," I said, somewhat evasively. Truth be told, I was very eager to make this trip; I was planning to go even if he told me not to.

"That truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage. And besides, aren't you going to the beach trip?" he asked, echoing my thoughts.

" I'll come back from the trip a little early so I'll have time. And I'll make sure to stop by Olympia and Montessano to refuel. Don't worry; I'll find a church to go to."

"Are you going all by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Seattle is a big city – you could get lost," he warned.

"Not likely; Phoenix is much larger, and you know I'm good with maps."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No thank you," I replied, though my voice betrayed a hint of impatience. Was he trying to compensate for all the Saturdays that he'd left me alone? Tough luck.

The next morning at school, I parked as far as possible from the shiny silver Volvo. I would keep my distance. I wouldn't notice her anymore. Maybe then she would finally leave me alone once and for all.

As I slammed the truck door shut, I lost my hold on the key and it splashed down in a puddle at my feet. As I bent to retrieve it, a pale hand flashed out and grabbed it first. I jerked upright, almost smacking my head into her. Edythe Cullen was right there, leaning casually against my truck. So much for ignoring her.

"Well that came out of nowhere," I said, taking the key from her hand.

"I was right next to you, Beau," she replied. Her voice was just a murmur, muted velvet, and her lips were holding back a smile.

Right, I thought. The same way she was right next to me the day she stopped the truck with her bare hands.

"I'm sure you were. Thanks anyway." I stared at her thoughtfully. Her eyes were light again today, a deep, golden honey color. My thoughts became muddled, and I had to look down. Her feet were just a half-foot from mine, oriented toward me, unmoving.

I looked past her, toward the school. "Why the traffic jam last night? I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist."

"Ah. That was for Taylor's sake. She was dying for her chance at you."

That's what I thought. This girl had _serious_ mental issues. She belonged in an asylum, not a high school.

"And I'm not pretending you don't exist," she continued.

"Well I am," I replied coldly. "I'm through dealing with your erratic mood swings, and I generally don't associate with lunatics. So if you'll excuse me –"

"Wait!"

I ignored her and kept walking.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me."

I sighed and slowed, though she didn't seem like she was having a hard time keeping up. "What do you want?" I would only accept if she had something to offer in return.

"I was wondering if, next Sunday –"

"No," I replied flatly. I had no intention of compromising my trip to Seattle.

She stared up at me, seemingly oblivious to the drizzling rain that was falling. She was apparently wearing no makeup at all – nothing smudged or ran. Her face really was that perfect. Anger welled up inside me. She was not the first girl who had tried toying with me, though she was easily the most beautiful. Why couldn't she stop trying to control me?

Her amused expression was back, the hint of dimples threatening on her cheeks.

"Will you please allow me to finish?" she asked.

I kept walking. "Do you know how the body synthesizes Vitamin D? It depends to some degree on skin pigmentation. Caucasians have less melanin, which allows them to make the vitamin more efficiently with less sunlight. It's a by-product of evolving in cold, dark climates, though it also increases the risk of skin cancer." I smiled. "I'm sure your ancestors fit that description perfectly."

She seemed utterly thrown off by my little lecture.

"Um, ok. Anyway, I heard that you were going to Seattle that day, and I wondered if you wanted a ride."

I finally stopped, flabbergasted.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it."

"Your concerns are misplaced. I assure you my truck _can_ make it. But I appreciate your offer."

"But can you make it to Seattle on one tank of gas?"

Wealthy snob. "I don't see how that's your problem."

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's problem," she said primly.

"This," I said, smiling, "coming from a girl who drives a Volvo, throws away her food, and wears the best clothes that money can buy? Sorry if I'm not convinced."

She was momentarily at a loss for words, which I found gratifying. How dare she, of all people, lecture me on the environment. She and her family constantly vaunted their wealth in front of everyone. As much as I hated to admit it, though, she had a point. The truck did have terrible gas mileage compared to a Volvo. But she clearly had ulterior motives. This might be the only way to figure them out.

"So, is that a yes or no?" she asked carefully.

I carefully considered my options. She was probably mentally unstable; who knows what she might end up doing to me on the way? But damn, she was so beautiful. And she was right about her car being more fuel-efficient (not to mention faster).

"I'll go with you, on one condition," I said.

She looked at me, a twinkle in her eyes, though her voice was serious. "Name it."

"I don't know if I have enough cash to buy everything I'm looking for. If I don't, I might need you to…"

She chuckled. "Are you asking me for money?"

"Only if it turns out I don't have enough." I smirked. "I'll pay you back, of course."

"And can I ask what you're going to buy?" She looked at me, intensely curious.

"I'll leave that to your imagination." I gave her a mischievous smile.

She was laughing now. "And _I'm_ the crazy one. Alright, Einstein, I'll see you in class."

She spun on her heel and then walked quickly back the way we'd come.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 _There are some things so serious you have to laugh at them_. –Niels Bohr

I walked to English in a kind of daze, still trying to comprehend what had happened. I didn't realize when I first came through the door that the class had already started.

Ms. Mason's irritated voice was my first clue. "Thank you for joining us, Mr. Swan."

I smothered a snort. As if I even cared about her class.

I noticed McKayla in her usual seat, beaming at me. That got me thinking; how far would I take things with her? Did I actually want to be her boyfriend? Was that more or less inevitable now that we were going to the spring dance? I genuinely liked her, but I wasn't sure I wanted her to be more than just a friend, though I knew she wanted much more.

She was becoming even more enthusiastic with the approaching trip and spoke about the weather report for the weekend. Although there wouldn't be any rain, the temperature would still be cold, but that didn't seem to bother her at all. It wasn't my idea of a beach day, but it beat staying home on Saturday.

The rest of the morning passed by uneventfully. It was hard to believe I wasn't imagining things again – that Edythe really had said those words, and that her eyes had looked that way when she was saying them. Something about her confused my reality. First I'd thought I'd seen her stop a van with her bare hands, and now this. Well, I knew I'd seen her stop that van, but my mind still couldn't rationally accept it. And as for her offer, I still had no idea why she had chosen me. I thought about what Jeremy had said about the Cullens, about their reclusiveness and their tendency to ignore everyone around them. So why was Edythe suddenly so interested in me? And more importantly, why was I becoming so interested in her?

I was both eager and nervous when I finally got to the cafeteria at lunchtime. Would she ignore me as usual? Would there be any sign from her that the conversation this morning had, in fact, happened? With a (very) small percentage of my brain I listened to Jeremy. Erica had asked him to the dance, and they were going to go with a few others – Allen and Becca (I had convinced her, after all), Logan and Taylor. I think I grunted in the right places, because he didn't seem to notice how little of my attention I was giving him.

My eyes went straight to her table as soon as I was through the door, but I was disappointed. There were only four people there, and Edythe wasn't one of them. Was she going to disappear every time something significant happened? I sighed inwardly and tried to think of something else.

I lost my appetite. I grabbed a bottle of lemonade for something to carry and followed Jeremy through the line.

"Hey Jeremy," I began. "Did you know that the pH of the human body ranges between 7.35 and 7.45, and if it falls outside of this range, the person dies? Yet we can drink pure lemon juice, which has a pH of only 2.0, and not suffer any adverse health effects. Why do you think that is?"

Jeremy looked like he was trying to ignore me. "I don't know, Beau."

What a remarkably incurious individual.

"Edythe Cullen is staring at you again," Jeremy said. "I wonder why she's sitting alone today."

My head snapped up and I quickly followed his line of sight. Edythe was sitting at an empty table across the cafeteria from where she usually sat. Her dimples flashed as soon as she knew I'd seen her. She raised one hand and motioned with her index finger for me to join her. As I stared, not entirely believing my own eyes, she winked.

"Does she mean _you_?" Jeremy asked, in a tone implying disbelief that someone like Edythe could possibly be interested in me.

"Well I don't suppose she's asking for _you_ ," I replied condescendingly, and walked away.

I got to her table and stood behind the chair across from her. "Did you need something?" I asked politely.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" she suggested through a wide smile.

I sat down, watching her expression carefully. "It's considered very rude in many Southeast Asian countries to motion for someone using your index finger."

"So what would you prefer?" she asked, still smiling.

"Beckon with your whole palm instead. I know we're not in Southeast Asia, but it just looks better."

"Ok," she agreed.

We sat there for a moment, not saying a word.

"I decided," she began, "that as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

She was having another one of those moments. "Well I hope you enjoy the fire and brimstone."

Her smile faded. "I don't expect you to know what I mean." Her eyes focused behind me. "I think your friends are upset that I've stolen you."

Suddenly I could feel all their eyes boring into my back. That had never really bothered me, though, and I didn't intend to let it distract me now.

"They'll survive."

She grinned. "I may not give you back, though."

"And why is that?" I asked curiously. "But more importantly, what's this all about?" I gestured toward her and the rest of the empty table.

"I decided that I'm tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." Her smile was fading again, and her eyes were serious by the end.

"Giving up?" I repeated.

"Yes – giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." The smile disappeared completely, and a hard edge crept into her silky voice.

"I'm confused," I said bluntly. "Don't you always do whatever you want?"

She scowled at me, the same scowl she'd given me in Biology. "You really have no idea."

We stared at each other for a few more seconds, the atmosphere charged with anticipation.

"So," I said, looking away so that I could catch my breath. "Does that mean we can try to act like normal human beings around each other? Who knows, we might even be friends."

"Well, we can try. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you to have." Her smile was brittle now, the warning real.

"You like saying that." Funny how my stomach was rolling. Was I hungry after all? Was it because she was smiling at me? Or was it because I suddenly almost believed her? She obviously believed what she was saying. Then again, plenty of insane individuals believed their own lies.

"I do, because you're not listening. I'm still waiting for you to hear me. You seem to be intelligent about almost everything except for this."

I finally realized what she was trying to say. "You want me to be afraid of you?" I asked in a small voice.

She merely looked at me, her expression mournful.

I suddenly laughed, long and loud. I could not believe this; Edythe really thought she was a threat to me. Edythe, of all people! Many of the students had turned to look at us, but I found that I couldn't control myself. I kept laughing, unable to stop.

Edythe looked at me furiously. "Could you at least keep it down?"

"Sorry," I said, out of breath, my stomach hurting from so much laughter. I finally met her gaze again. She was angrier than I'd ever seen her in my life, and a wave of fear washed over me. Not since we were in Mr. Cope's office had I felt so terrified of her. I remembered how she had lifted Taylor's truck and realized Edythe wasn't joking.

Edythe seemed to notice. "It's not so funny when you really start to think about it, is it?" She smiled coldly.

"No," I admitted.

Her expression suddenly softened as she looked at me again. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm wondering what you are."

Her smile tightened, like her teeth were suddenly clamped together, but she held it carefully in place.

"Are you having much luck with that?" Her voice was casual, like she didn't really care about my answer.

"Not really," I replied uncertainly.

She tilted her head to the side, staring into my eyes as if she was trying to see through them, right into my brain. She smiled – inviting this time, almost impossible to resist.

"Won't you tell me?"

But I wasn't giving in that easily. "Why do you enjoy staring at me so much? Are you trying to give me the evil eye?"

She smiled. "I'm just trying to figure you out, that's all."

"Then you won't mind if I stare at you the same way, to "figure you out"?"

"Go ahead," she replied indifferently.

"By the way, your girlfriend is wondering why you were laughing earlier. She's debating whether to ask if you're okay." She seemed amused.

"And how would you know that?" I asked.

"Most people are very easy to read."

"Except me."

"Yes, except for you." Her eyes shifted to me and intensified, drilling into mine. "I wonder why that is."

"Well," I said, trying to sound casual, "you shouldn't spend too much effort thinking about it. I'm sure there are more productive ways to utilize your time than staring at me."

I concentrated on unscrewing the lid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked. Her stare was less penetrating now.

"Are you?"

"No, I'm not hungry." She smiled like I was missing some inside joke.

"Yet you seem to need food a lot more than I do. Look at you; I can almost count your ribs. It's not healthy for women to be so fixated on their appearance that they choose to eat as little as possible."

It was her turn to laugh now. "I'm not anorexic, if that's what you're thinking."

"All the same, though. Try eating a little more and stop worrying about what everyone else thinks of you. I'm willing to bet they won't even notice."

She smiled at me. "You're so silly." Her expression turned more serious. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Depends on what it is," I answered guardedly.

"Tell me one of your theories."

I was momentarily surprised. "Ok. I think the black hole information paradox can be resolved by looking at information as – "

"No, genius. I mean one of you theories about me." She looked at me expectantly through her thick lashes, her long gold eyes scorching underneath.

"Please?" she breathed, leaning toward me. Without permission, my body leaned closer to her, as if she were a magnet and I was a paper clip, until her face was less than a foot from mine. My mind suddenly went blank.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and forced myself to sit back. "Excuse me?"

"One little theory," she purred. "Please?"

"Edythe, please don't beg," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "It only makes you look even less dignified." I quickly berated myself. _She_ hadn't been the one laughing her head off a few moments ago.

But she would not relent. Fine, I thought. I'll go along with her little game.

"Alright. Are you part of some secret government project?" I felt embarrassed as the words came out, but she was the one who insisted.

She chuckled. "I think you vastly overestimate what our government can do."

"Ok, then. Maybe you're a cyborg sent from the future to protect me from some malevolent artificial intelligence." This was actually kind of fun.

Edythe rolled her eyes. "Not very original." Then her expression darkened. "Good guess, though."

"I've got one more." She listened eagerly. "Have you ever seen _Fight Club_?" Edythe shook her head. "You could just be a product of my overheated imagination, a projection of my subconscious self. My interactions with you might simply be my mind creating this reality in which I do things that I've always fantasized about doing, like talking to a beautiful and mysterious girl who seems interested in me for no particular reason and who's saved my life without ever explaining how she did it. Which means I'm probably just talking to myself right now."

"Beau, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." She was laughing again. "You have quite an imagination, I'll give you that. But I can assure you I'm quite real."

"I'll figure it out eventually." I muttered.

Her humor vanished like a switch flipped off. "I wish you wouldn't try."

"How can you expect me not to wonder? You're impossible." It was a statement, not really a criticism.

She understood. "But what if I'm not a hero? What if I'm the villain?" She smiled as she said this, playfully, but her eyes were heavy with some burden I couldn't imagine.

"There are no heroes and villains in the real world, Edythe," I said solemnly. "Just people, trying to make their lives mean something."

She sighed. "You're the most skeptical person I've ever met. But there are more things on heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Shakespeare. "I see you can read. But tell me, if you're the villain, who's the hero?"

She didn't respond, choosing instead to stare at the table, lost in thought.

Finally she spoke. "I don't know. Maybe no one."

I was more fascinated by her than ever. I still felt somewhat nervous being with her, of course. But I wanted to sit with her, to listen to her voice, to find out who or what she was, and then… But no, that was not possible. She didn't want me to find out who she was, and I honestly didn't know how I'd handle the truth, if I ever did find out.

I noticed, then, that the cafeteria was empty. Reluctantly, I looked at my watch. Damn. I shoved my chair away from the table, and she looked up. She seemed… sad. But resigned. Like this was the reaction she'd been waiting for.

"We're going to be late," I told her, scrambling to my feet.

She was surprised for just a second, and then the now-familiar amusement was back.

"I'm not going to class today." Her fingers twirled the lid so fast that it was just a blur.

"Why not?"

She smiled up at me, but her eyes were not entirely disguised. I could still see the stress behind her façade.

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then," she said.

"I believe the word you're looking for is "truant". You're fortunate not to live in a big city; otherwise you'd never get away with it." I nevertheless felt tempted to go with her, but that wouldn't be right.

She turned her attention back to her makeshift top. "I'll see you later, then."

That sounded like a dismissal, and though I felt somewhat insulted, I also knew it was the correct thing to do. If she wanted to get in trouble, then let her. And in any case, there was too much to think about. The first bell rang and I hurried to the door. I glanced back once to see that she hadn't moved at all, and the lid was still spinning in a tight circle like it would never stop.

As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning just as fast. She had answered almost none of my questions and raised so many more.

I was fortunate; the teacher wasn't in the room when I ran in late, face hot. Both Allen and McKayla were staring at me – Allen with surprise, almost awe, and McKayla with confusion and a hint of jealousy.

Mrs. Banner made her entrance then, calling the class to order while juggling a bunch of cardboard boxes in her hands. She let the boxes fall onto McKayla's table, and asked her to start passing them around the class.

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," she said as she put on a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of her lab coat. The crack as the gloves snapped into place was strangely ominous. "The first should be an indicator card," she went on, grabbing a white card about the size of an index card and displaying it to us; it had four squares marked on it instead of lines. "The second is a four-pronged applicator" – she held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick – " and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." She displayed a small piece of blue plastic before splitting it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but my stomach plunged.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you…" She began at McKayla's table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares of McKayla's card.

"Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet…" She grabbed McKayla's hand and jabbed the spike into the tip of McKayla's middle finger.

"Ouch," McKayla complained.

Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead and my ears began a faint ringing.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs…," Mrs. Banner demonstrated as she instructed, squeezing McKayla's finger till the blood flowed. I was terrified at this point, and looked away, hoping no one had noticed.

"And then apply it to the card," she finished, holding up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through the humming in my ears.

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." She sounded proud of herself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission – I have slips at my desk."

She continued through the room with her water dropper.

What am I going to do? I wondered desperately. I almost certainly still had traces of heroin in my blood. I didn't know if they actually had the equipment to detect it, but if they did… I couldn't take that chance. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth.

"Beau, are you all right?" Mrs. Banner asked. Her voice was close to my head, by still far away, and it sounded alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, Mrs. Banner. I'm O negative. I just have to ask, though. Is this legal? Aren't you supposed to have our permission before taking any blood from us?" She could probably hear the desperation in my voice.

I couldn't even open my eyes anymore.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, ma'am," I muttered, wishing I'd stayed with Edythe. Stupid, stupid me.

"Can someone walk Beau to the nurse, please?" she called.

"I will." Even though it was far away, I recognized McKayla's voice.

"Can you walk?" Mrs. Banner asked me.

"Yes," I whispered. _Just let me get out of here_ , I thought. _I'll crawl_.

I felt McKayla grab my hand – I was sure it was all sweaty and gross but right now I couldn't care less – and I worked to get my eyes open while she tugged me up. I just had to get out of this room before it went completely dark. I stumbled toward the door while McKayla put her arm around my waist, trying to steady me. I put my arm over her shoulders, but she was too short to help my balance much. I tried to carry my own weight as much as possible.

McKayla and I lumbered slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the cafeteria, our of sight of building four in case Mrs. Banner was watching, I stopped.

"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I asked.

McKayla breathed out a sight of relief as I settled clumsily on the edge of the walk.

"Ask me something about trig. Something difficult." I needed to calm myself down before I started puking.

"Um okay," she said. "What's another way to write sin(2x)?"

Was that the best she could do? "2sin(x)cos(x). Give me a harder problem." This wasn't going to work; I was still having trouble breathing.

"You're green, Beau," McKayla said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Just…give me… a minute."

"Beau?" a different voice called from the distance.

Here she comes again. Why couldn't she stay out of this?

"What's wrong? Is he hurt?" The voice was closer now, and it sounded strangely fierce. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could die, or at least stop myself from vomiting.

McKayla sounded stressed. "I think he fainted. I don't know what happened, he didn't even prick his finger."

"Beau, can you hear me?" Edythe's voice was right by my head now, and she sounded relieved.

"No," I groaned, half-jokingly.

She laughed.

"I was trying to help him to the nurse," McKayla explained, defensive. "But he wouldn't go any farther."

"I'll take him," Edythe said, the smile still in her voice. "You can go back to class."

"What? No, I'm supposed to …"

And then a thin, strong arm was under both of mine, and I was on my feet without realizing how I got there. The strong arm, cold like the sidewalk, held me tight against a slim body, almost like a crutch. My eyes flipped open in surprise, but all I could see was her tangled bronze hair against my chest. She started moving forward, and my feet fumbled trying to catch up. I expected to fall, but she somehow kept me upright. She didn't so much as stagger when my full weight tugged us both forward.

The again, I didn't weigh as much as a van.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, embarrassed beyond measure.

"Hey," McKayla called after us, already ten paces behind.

Edythe ignored her. "You look simply awful," she told me. I could practically hear the grin.

"Just put me back on the sidewalk," I groaned. "I'll be fine in a few minutes."

She propelled us quickly forward while I tried to make my feet move in the right pattern to match her speed. A few times I could swear that my feet were actually dragging across the ground, but then, I couldn't feel them very well, so I wasn't sure.

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" she asked. Apparently she thought it hilarious. If only she knew.

I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again and fought the nausea, lips clamped together. The most important thing was that I not vomit on her. I could survive everything else.

"And not even your own blood!" She laughed. It was like the sound of a bell ringing.

"I'm having a vasovagal response," I lied. "It's just a neurally mediated syncope." I'd read about that once on the Internet while researching the nervous system.

She laughed again. I didn't know whether she believed me or not, but it didn't matter, as long as that was what she told the nurse.

I wasn't sure how she got the door open while dragging me, but suddenly it was warm – everywhere except where her body pressed against me. I wished I felt normal so that I could appreciate that a little more – her body pressing mine. I knew that under normal circumstances I would probably be enjoying this.

"Oh my," a male voice gasped.

"He's having a neurally mediated syncope," Edythe explained brightly. Good girl.

I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Edythe was dragging me past the front counter toward the door at the back of the room. Mr. Cope, the balding receptionist, ran ahead of her to hold it open. He faltered when her heard the dire-sounding diagnosis.

"Should I call nine-one-one?" he gasped.

"It's just a fainting spell," I mumbled. That would be the _last_ thing I needed.

A grandfatherly old man – the school medic – looked up from a novel, shocked, as Edythe hauled me into the room. Did he notice that when she leaned me against the cot, she half-lifted me into place? The crackly paper complained as she pushed me down with one hand against my chest, then turned and swung my feet onto the vinyl mattress.

It reminded me of the time she'd swung my feet out of the way of the can, and the memory made me dizzy.

"They're blood typing in Biology," Edythe explained to the medic.

I watched the old man nod sagely. "There's always one."

Edythe covered her mouth and pretended her laugh was a cough. She'd gone to stand across the room from me. Her eyes were bright, excited.

"Just lie down for a minute, son," the old nurse told me. "It'll pass."

"I know," I muttered. It's not as if there was actually anything wrong with me, or at least nothing they knew about. It was just nerves. The dizziness was already beginning to fade.

"Does this happen a lot?" he asked.

I sighed. "Sometimes. Many things can trigger a neurocardiogenic syncope; exposed blood, in my case."

The nurse looked confused. Not very well acquainted with medical terminology, evidently.

Edythe laughed again, not bothering to disguise it.

"You can go back to class now," the nurse said to her.

"I'm supposed to stay with him," Edythe answered. She said it with such confidence that – even though he pursed his lips – the nurse didn't argue it further.

"I'll get you some ice for your head," he said to me, and then he shuffled out of the room.

I let my eyelids fall shut again. "You were right, as much as I hate to admit it."

"I usually am – but about what in particular this time?" She could be so modest.

"Ditching is healthy." I worked to breathe in and out evenly.

"You scared me for a minute there," she admitted after a pause. The way she said it made it sound like she was confessing a weakness, something to be ashamed of.

"Honestly," she continued, "I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your death."

I realized who she was referring to. "I bet McKayla's annoyed."

"She absolutely loathes me," Edythe said cheerfully.

She was probably right. "Well it doesn't seem to bother you. But how did you even see us? I thought you were ditching."

I was fine now, though in retrospect I probably should've eaten something for lunch. On the other hand, that might've been what kept me from vomiting in the first place.

"I was in my car, listening to a CD." Such a normal response, yet it didn't explain how she found out about my little incident.

I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in his hand.

"Here you go, son." He laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better," he added.

Of course I was. "I think I'm okay," I said, sitting up.

I could tell he was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Mr. Cope stuck his head in.

"We've got another one," he warned.

I lurched of the cot to make room for the next victim and handed the compress back to the nurse; I didn't need it any more.

And then McKayla staggered through the door, now supporting Leann Stephens, another girl in our Biology class. She was currently sallow green. Edythe and I drew back against the wall to give them room.

"Oh no," Edythe murmured. "Go out to the office, Beau."

I looked down at her, confused.

"Trust me – go."

I spun and caught the door before it closed, floundering out of the infirmary. I could feel Edythe right behind me.

"You actually listened to me," she said, surprised. Then her eyes narrowed. "I hope there was a good reason why I lied on your behalf."

She was smarter than I'd given her credit for. "You don't think there's anything wrong with me?"

"Oh there is." She half-smiled at me. "I just don't think it was a "neurally mediated syncope". You were terrified for some reason, and I don't think it was just the thought of them taking your blood."

"Believe what you want." Did she really want to go that route? She had so many secrets, and now she was offended because _she_ had to lie for _me_ one time.

McKayla came through the door then, glancing from Edythe to me and back again.

"Thanks so much for your help, Edythe," she said, her sickly sweet tone a confirmation of Edythe's earlier hypothesis. "I don't know what Beau here would have done without you."

"Don't mention it," Edythe replied with an amused smile.

"You look better," McKayla said to me in the same tone. "I'm so glad."

"Thanks," I replied politely. I wasn't in the mood to argue.

"Are you coming to class?" she asked, her voice going back to normal.

"No thanks. I'd just have to turn around and come back."

"Yeah, I guess… So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While she spoke, she flashed a dark look toward Edythe, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

I didn't want to upset her more. "Of course."

"We're meeting at my parents' store at ten." Her eyes flickered to Edythe again, and I could tell she was worried she was giving out too much information. Her body language made it clear this wasn't an open invitation.

"I'll be there," I promised.

"I'll see you in Gym, then," she said, moving uncertainly toward the room.

"Ok."

She looked at me again, her round face slightly pouting, and then as she walked through the door, her shoulders slumped. I suddenly felt guilty, and I pondered the situation. Did McKayla think I was now more interested in Edythe than her? That was probably true at this point, but she didn't have any particular reason to think so, especially considering that we were still going to the dance together. I thought about having to deal with her in Gym.

"Ugh, Gym," I muttered.

"I can take care of that." I hadn't heard Edythe walk over, but now she spoke from right beside me, which was startling. "Go sit down and look pale," she instructed in a whisper.

I sat down in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed, all the while listening to Edythe working her charms on Mr. Cope, convincing him to let me skip Gym.

When she was finished, she turned to me. "Can you talk, or do you want me to help you again?" With her back to the receptionist, her expression turned sarcastic.

"I'll walk, thank you," I replied indifferently.

I stood carefully, and I was still fine. She opened the door for me, her smile polite but her eyes mocking. I decided to ignore her as I walked through the door, out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt good – the first time I'd enjoyed the never-ending moisture falling out of the sky – as it washed the sweat off my face. It was during moments like these that I began to really think about my life. How much longer could I go on like this before someone else found out? Was it really worth it?

I didn't know, but I suddenly remembered that Edythe was there. I turned to look at her. "So are you going to the beach trip this Saturday?" I doubted she would go, but it felt right to ask, and I couldn't afford to have her ask any more questions.

"Where are you all going?" She was staring straight ahead, expressionless, but her question made me hope she was considering it.

"Down to La Push, to First Beach."

I watched her face, trying to read it. I thought I saw her eyes narrow just slightly.

She finally looked up at me and smiled. "I really don't think I was invited."

"Alright." It was probably for the best. She and McKayla did not get along. If we all went on a beach trip together, who knows what might happen? I briefly amused myself imagining them fighting, then realized it probably wouldn't end well for McKayla.

We were at the parking lot now. I headed towards my truck. Something caught my jacket and yanked me back half a step.

"Where are you going?" she asked, surprised. Her little hand had a fistful of jacket; it didn't seem to take her any effort.

I was momentarily confused. "Going home. What does it look like?"

She smiled. "Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?"

"What condition?" I didn't like where this was going.

"Your neurocardiogenic syncope, remember?" Her voice was mocking.

"Okay," I replied. "You know that isn't true, so why do you insist I go with you?"

"I still don't think you're in a good condition to drive. There's obviously something wrong, and I'd like to know what it is." Her eyes searched mine, but I avoided her gaze.

"I'll let you keep guessing." Oh well; I owed her anyway. "Wait, what are you going to do with my truck, then?"

"I'll have Archie drop it off after school."

I was distracted by the casual reminder that she had siblings – strange, pale, and beautiful siblings.

"Are you going to put up a fuss?" she asked when I didn't speak.

"No point in resisting, is there?"

I tried to decipher all the layers to her smile, but I didn't get very far. "It warms my cold heart to see you learning so quickly. This way."

She dropped her fistful of jacket and turned. I followed her willingly. The smooth roll of her hips was just as hypnotic as her eyes, but I learned not to focus on it. She was such a mesmerizing creature.

The inside of the Volvo was just as pristine as the outside, and smelled faintly of perfume. The scent was familiar, but I could not place it. Regardless, it smelled amazing.

As the engine purred quietly to life (Germans certainly knew how to make good cars), she played with a few dials, turning the heat on and the music down.

We spoke for a while. I talked about my mom and her musical tastes as well as her eccentric habits and her relationship with Phil. She spoke about her life with the Cullens; her biological parents had died long ago, but she deeply loved her adopted parents, Carine and Earnest. To my relief, she didn't inquire about my medical condition, and I found, after arriving at my house, that I had no desire to leave her car. Her family was waiting, however, and I didn't want to leave them out in the rain.

"Have fun at the beach," she said. "Good weather for sunbathing." She gestured to the sheeting rain.

"Thanks." I was slightly puzzled. "Won't I see you tomorrow?"

"No. Eleanor and I are starting the weekend early. I'll be back in time for the trip to Seattle, of course."

"Where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?" I wasn't sure if I should still be polite around her, or if she actually considered me a friend.

"We'll be hiking the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

"Ah. Well I hope you have a good time."

She smiled. "Will you do something for me this weekend?" She turned to look me straight in the eyes, her own burning in their strange, hypnotic way.

I nodded warily; they were so distracting. I forced myself to look away, but it got harder every time.

"Try not to get into any more trouble, alright? I've noticed trouble already has a tendency to follow you; so try not to make things worse."

I snorted. "What are you, my mother?." But the more I started thinking about it, the more I realized she might have a point. "I'll do my best."

I jumped out into the vertical river and ran for the porch. By the time I turned around, the Volvo had disappeared.

I instinctively dug my hands into my jacket pockets, and noticed that the keys to my truck were missing; she had taken them without my noticing.

Wonderful girl, I thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 _Science cannot solve the ultimate mystery of nature. And that is because, in the last analysis, we ourselves are part of the mystery we are trying to solve_. –Max Planck

While I was thinking about Fourier transforms in signal processing, I was listening for my truck. I would've thought I'd hear the engine's roar even over the pounding rain. But when I went to look out the window again, it was suddenly there.

I wasn't particularly excited about Friday, and my expectations were vindicated. Students did not tire of hearing about my fainting episode. Jeremy in particular was entertained; he nearly choked when Logan pretended to swoon at the lunch table. With friends like these, who needed enemies? Yet the hypocrite sought to interrogate me anyway.

"What did Edythe Cullen want?" he'd asked in Trig.

"I'm not sure." It was the truth, sort of. "She never really got to the point."

"She looked kind of mad."

I'd shrugged. " She always looks like that."

Jeremy laughed. "I've never seen her sit with anyone but her family before, though. That was weird."

"Yeah, it was," I'd agreed. That was _definitely_ true.

The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew she wasn't going to be there, I still hoped. I knew it wasn't rational, but when I walked into the cafeteria with Jeremy and McKayla, I couldn't keep from looking at her table, where Royal, Archie, and Jessamine sat, talking with their heads close together. At least we still had the trip to Seattle.

At my table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. McKayla was animated again, putting a lot more trust in the local weatherman than I thought people in his profession deserved. I'd have to see his promised sun before I believed it. At least it was warmer today – almost sixty, though it was still wet. Either way, I was determined to enjoy the trip as much as I could, and hopefully forget about Edythe until Sunday.

I caught a few unfriendly glances from Logan during lunch. He'd probably noticed my reaction when he'd mocked my little episode from yesterday. After walking out of the room, he ran a hand over his slicked-back, silver-blond hair. "I don't know why Beaufort" – he said my name with a sneer – doesn't just sit with the Cullens now," I heard him mutter to McKayla in his nasal tone. Idiot. Was he jealous of me because of Taylor? I thought about telling him that I'd accepted Taylor's invitation to go to the dance after all, but decided that it wouldn't be fair to her or McKayla. I'd find some other way to get even with him.

"He's my friend; he sits with us," McKayla snapped back. She wrapped her arm around my waist possessively.

Probably a little more than that, I thought, though I couldn't help smiling as I wrapped my arm around her.

Later, at dinner, Charlie seemed excited about my trip to La Push in the morning. I guessed he felt guilty for leaving me alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now. And I never minded the alone time.

Of course he knew the names of all the people going as well as their parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents (okay, maybe that was a slight exaggeration). He obviously approved. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edythe. He seemed to like the Cullens a lot. But there was no reason to tell him about it.

"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks? It's south of Mount Rainier."

"Yeah, why?"

I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many bears. Most people go there during hunting season."

Interesting. "Huh. Maybe I got it wrong."

But of course I hadn't gotten it wrong. I clearly remembered what Edythe told me. But why would they go there? Did Edythe intend to go hunt bears? Was she really that suicidal, or was she hiding something from me (again)?

For the first time since Phoenix, I was woken by sunlight. I could hardly believe it, but there it was – that incandescent sphere of hydrogen and helium. Clouds still ringed the horizon, but a wide blue patch took up most of the sky. I dressed quickly, afraid the blue would disappear as soon as I turned my back.

Newton's Olympic Outfitters was just north of town. I'd seen the store but never stopped there, though I suspected I'd be seeing it a lot more often now. In the parking lot I saw McKayla's Suburban and Taylor's Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I saw the kids standing around in front of the Suburban. Erica was there, and two other girls from class; Becca and Colleen. I remembered I'd convinced Becca to ask Allen out; the two were practically made for each other. Jeremy was there as well, flanked by Allen and Logan (talk about opposites). Three other guys stood with them, including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday. That one gave me a disapproving look as I climbed out of the truck, then said something to Logan. They laughed loudly, and Logan pretended he was passing out. The other idiot caught him at first, then let him fall. They both laughed again like the imbeciles they were. I decided to ignore them as much as possible for now; they would soon get what was coming to them.

McKayla, of course, was happy to see me.

"I'd knew you'd come!" she called, sounding thrilled. "And I promised it would be sunny, didn't I?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." I gave her a lopsided smile, and was surprised when she kissed me on the cheek. This girl was serious. But that was fine by me.

"We're just waiting for Leann and Sean, unless you invited someone else."

"No, it's just me," I said. I would've invited Edythe, but it was clear McKayla would not tolerate her, though I had a strange feeling that Edythe wouldn't have come regardless.

McKayla smiled. "Well you're riding with me. Unless you want to go on Leann's mom's minivan?"

"God, no. I hate minivans. We used to have one back in Phoenix, but it broke down almost every month. I told my mom I would set it on fire if she didn't start looking for a new car."

McKayla laughed. "So what happened?"

"We got a new car. Well, not new, exactly, but it worked pretty well." I suddenly felt a pang of nostalgia. That car was one of the few things I missed about Phoenix; it was the first car I'd ever driven, an experience I'd never forget.

McKayla seemed to notice. "You still miss Phoenix?" she asked gently.

"Yes and no," I replied. "There are things I enjoyed, but I never really fit in."

"Well I hope you fit in here." She winked at me. "In more ways than one. Come on, you can ride shotgun."

It was fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, though it felt shorter despite the crowded suburban; 9 people in a vehicle designed for 7. McKayla and I exchanged childhood stories. She complained about the dismal weather in Forks and the absence of entertainment, and I complained about the idiots I had to deal with in Phoenix and the myriad ways I tried to pass the time. We didn't even know we'd arrived until the truck stopped.

I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar, though it was still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving into the rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, each with a spiky crown of black firs. The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge; there were only rocks after that. The tide line was piled with huge driftwood trees, bleached white by the salty waves.

We trudged through the thick sand down to the beach, McKayla leading the way to a circle of driftwood logs that had clearly been used for parties before. There was a fire ring already in place, filled with black ashes. Erica and Becca (how appropriate, I thought) gathered broken branches of driftwood from the dries piles against the forest edge, and soon had a teepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" McKayla asked me.

"No," I said as she placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.

"You'll like this, then – watch the colors." She lit another small branch and laid it alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up the dry wood.

"It's blue," I remarked. "Do you know why?"

"Because of the salt, right?" She looked at me hopefully, like a student answering a teacher's question.

"Yes," I replied. "Specifically, sodium and potassium chloride, though I'm sure there are others as well. Different salts produce different colors when burned. It's the same principle they use in fireworks. And yes, " I added, smiling, " it does look cool."

McKayla, as usual, looked impressed. She lit one more piece, placed it where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by me. She leaned her head against my shoulder as I watched the blue and green flames crackle upward.

After half an hour of talk, some of the girls wanted to hike to the nearby tide pools, but most of the guys wanted to head up to the one shop in the village for food. I wasn't hungry and had always enjoyed the tide pools ever since I came to Forks as a child, so the decision wasn't difficult. I waited until Logan the Loser went foraging for food with most of the others before joining the pro-hiking group (which McKayla had conveniently joined as well).

The hike was short, and I had no trouble keeping up with the rest of the group, though I occasionally paused to enjoy the sights and smells of the forest. I really _did_ need to get out more. It wasn't long before we broke through the dark edge of the forest and found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to the sea. Along its rocky banks, shallow pools that never completely drained were filled with tiny sea creatures.

I watched the others recklessly leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. I wasn't in the mood to bash my head and fall into the ocean, so I sat on a stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools, entertained by the natural aquarium below me. Everything from to hermit crabs to starfish to eels were swimming around or scurrying about. I wished I knew the scientific names of some of these creatures, and briefly wondered if Edythe happened to know any of them. I sighed; I could never put that girl completely out of my mind.

Suddenly everyone was hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back. When we returned to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As we got closer I could see the shining, straight black hair and copper skin of the new arrivals, teenagers from the reservation coming to socialize. Erica introduced us to them as we each entered the driftwood circle. Allen and I were the last to arrive, and, as Erica said our names, I noticed a younger girl sitting on the ground near the fire look up at me with interest. I sat down next to Allen, and McKayla joined us with sandwiches and sodas, which she offered me before anyone else. The girl who looked to be the oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with her. All I caught was that one of the boys was also named Jeremy, and the girl who noticed me was named Julie.

During lunch the clouds started to move in, darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. McKayla – with Jeremy shadowing her (pathetic, I thought) – headed up to the little store; she'd asked me to come, but I didn't want anything. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time they had all scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with the Loser and Taylor talking by the CD player someone had brought, and three teenagers from the reservation, including the girl named Julie and the oldest girl, who had acted as spokesperson.

A few minutes after Allen left with the hikers, Julie came over to take his place next to me. She looked fourteen or fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of her neck. Her skin was beautiful, like coppery silk, her dark eyes were wide-set above her high cheekbones, and her lips were curved like a bow. She looks like an Aztec princess, I thought. However, my positive opinion was damaged by the first words out of her mouth.

"You're Beaufort Swan, aren't you?"

It was like the first day of school again.

"Beau," I corrected, trying to sound courteous; it wasn't her fault, after all.

"Right," she said, as if she'd already known that. "I'm Julie Black." She held out her hand. "You bought my mom's truck."

"Huh," I said, shaking her hand. "Small world. So Bonnie's your mom. I probably should remember you then."

"No, I'm the youngest of the family – you would remember my older brothers."

"Adam and Aaron." Charlie and Bonnie and her husband George, who had passed a way a few years ago, had thrown us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. Though we'd gotten along fairly well, we never really found much to talk about; they didn't care much about differential equations and probability theory, and their usual topics of conversation weren't particularly interesting to me either. "Adam and Aaron and … Jules, right?"

She smiled. "You do remember. No one's called me that since my brothers left."

"They aren't here?" I examined the boys at the ocean's edge, wondering if I'd be able to recognize them now.

Jules shook her head. "No. Adam's got a scholarship to Washington State, and Aaron married a Samoan surfer – he lives in Hawaii now." She suddenly smiled. "I still remember all the things they said about you."

"Like what?" I asked, suddenly curious.

"That you'd be the next Einstein or Newton. Adam always said you were the smartest kid he'd ever known. Whenever he had trouble with math, he'd say you could probably do it in your sleep."

"Probably," I said, grinning. "They seem to be doing pretty well, though." I was surprised, actually, that Aaron had gotten married; he was only about a year older than I was. And to a Samoan surfer, no less.

"So how do you like the truck?" she asked.

"It's a nice ride. It runs great."

"Yeah, but it's really slow," she laughed. "I was so relieved when Charlie bought it. My mom wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there."

"You build cars?" I asked, impressed.

"When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" she added jokingly. She had an interesting voice, warm and kind of throaty.

"Actually," I said. "I might. I have an old friend back in Phoenix who's completely insane about cars. I could ask him, see if he can find one."

"Really?" she asked hopefully. It was obvious she hadn't expected me to be of any help. "You'd do that for me?"

I shrugged. "Sure." I was already starting to like this girl, and Jack needed the money anyway.

"Thanks!" She flashed me a brilliant smile, looking at me in a way that I was learning to recognize. I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"You know Beaufort, Julie?" Logan asked. I sighed, loud enough for him to hear, but he ignored me.

"Beau and I have sort of known each other since I was born," Jules said, smiling at me again.

"How nice for you," Logan said.

"Don't you have someone else to annoy?" I asked brusquely.

He turned to me, pretending to be offended. "Taylor and I were just saying that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone think to ask them?"

Before I could formulate a response, as if it was this idiot's business what the Cullens did or whether or not I'd invited Edythe and been rejected (the implication was obvious in the way he looked at me), we were interrupted by a strong, clear voice.

"You mean Dr. Carine Cullen's family?"

It was the older girl who had first introduced the local kids. She was even older than I'd thought, now that I looked at her closer. She was a woman, really, her hair cut short, unlike Julie's. She was standing now, and I saw that she was almost as tall as I was.

Logan glared at her, glared up because he was shorter than she was, irritated because she'd spoken before I could respond.. "Yes, do you know them?" he asked in a patronizing tone, only half-turned toward her.

"The Cullens don't come here," she said, and in her clear, forceful voice, it sounded less like an observation and more like… a command. She had ignored his question, but clearly the conversation was over. I smiled; serves him right.

I looked more closely at the woman – she stood with a confident, straight posture, looking away toward the dark forest. She'd said that the Cullens didn't come here, but her tone implied something more – that they weren't allowed to come at all. Was there some sort of feud between them?

Jules interrupted my meditation. "So, is Forks driving you insane yet?"

I frowned. I might've crossed that line already. "It's a work in progress."

She grinned sympathetically.

I was still turning over the woman's brief comment on the Cullens, and piecing it together with what I'd read from Edythe's reactions the other day. I looked at Jules, speculating.

"What?" she asked.

"Would you mind taking a walk down the beach with me?"

She looked at Logan, then back to me with a quick grin. "Yeah, let's get out of here."

As we walked north toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally won. The sun disappeared, the sea turned black, and the temperature started to drop. I shoved my hands deep in the pockets of my jacket.

I carefully looked at Jules as we walked. She just had on a long-sleeved t-shirt, but she swung her arms as she walked, not bothered by the cold. The wind whipped her silky black hair into twists and knots on her back. There was something very natural and open about her face. It was as if she held no secrets.

"Nice friends," she commented when we were far enough from the fire that the clattering of the stones beneath our feet was more than enough to drown out our voices.

"I know, right? To be fair, they're not all bad."

She laughed. "Hard to tell them apart, though."

"Yeah. We're all just a bunch of white guys, right?"

"More or less." She giggled.

"Hey can I ask you something?" I hoped she was more cooperative than Edythe.

"Shoot."

"What did that girl mean about the doctor's family?"

Jules made a face and then looked away toward the ocean. She didn't say anything.

There was definitely something going on, then. And I was willing to bet Jules knew what it was.

She was still looking at the ocean.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Dammit, what was she hiding?

Jules turned back with another smile, kind of apologetic. "No worries. It's just … I'm not really supposed to talk about that."

"I see." I was hoping that wouldn't be the case. Oh well. "Forget I asked."

"Already blew it, though, didn't I?"

"It wasn't really you – that girl was a little… intense."

She laughed. "Cool. Her fault then. Her name's Sam, by the way."

I smiled. "Ok… so is this information really classified?"

She looked up at me, smiling like we already shared a secret of our own. "Can I trust you?"

"Of course."

"You won't go running to spill to your blond friend?" She couldn't help grinning.

"I wouldn't tell him if his life depended on it."

That seemed to satisfy her. When she laughed, it made me feel like I was actually charming.

Her husky voice dropped a little lower. "Do you like scary stories, Beau?"

"How scary are we talking here?"

"You'll never sleep again," she promised.

"Well, now I have to hear it."

She chuckled and looked down, a smile playing around the edges of her lips.

We were near one of the beached logs now, a huge white skeleton with the upended roots all tangled out like a hundred spider legs. Jules climbed up to sit on one of the thicker roots while I sat beneath her on the body of the tree. I tried to seem only interested as I looked at her, not like I was taking any of this seriously.

"Alright Stephen King, I'm ready to be terrified."

She shook her head. "Do you know any of our old stories, about where we come from – the Quileutes, I mean?" she began.

"Not really," I admitted.

"There are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Great Flood – supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark." She smiled, to show me she wasn't taking this seriously, either. "Another legend claims that we descended from wolves – and that the wolves are our sisters still. It's against tribal law to kill them." She paused.

"Then there are the stories about the _cold ones."_ Her voice dropped even lower.

"The cold ones?" I asked. Did I look too interested now? Could she guess that the word cold would mean something to me?

"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandmother knew some of them. She was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land." She rolled her eyes.

"Your great-grandmother?" I asked.

"She was a tribal elder, like my mother. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf – well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into women, like our ancestors. You could call them werewolves, I guess."

"So," I said, trying to suppress a smile. "If they're the cold ones, does that make you all the hot ones?"

She burst out laughing. "You're never going to let me finish the story, are you?"

"No, please, go on." It wasn't an inappropriate name for them, really. Well, ok, maybe it was.

"So you see," Jules continued, trying to look serious. "The cold ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandmother's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did – they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandmother made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces." She winked at me. So I was a pale-face, apparently.

"If they were dangerous, then why…?"

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like this clan alleged they were. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." She deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into her tone.

"What do you mean, civilized?"

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were able to prey on animals instead."

I tried to keep my voice casual, but I was pretty sure I failed. "So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they like the cold ones your great-grandmother met?"

"No…" She paused dramatically. "They're the _same_ ones."

She must have thought the expression on my face meant only that I was engrossed in her story. She smiled, pleased, and continued.

"There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest are the same. In my great-grandmother's time they already knew of the leader, Carine. She'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived." She was fighting another smile, trying to keep the tone serious.

"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"

"Blood drinkers," she replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them vampires."

I stared out at the rough surf after she answered, not sure what my face was giving away. This was completely ridiculous. Rationally, I knew it, and yet…

"You have goose bumps on your neck," Jules laughed delightedly.

"You could be the next R.L. Stine," I told her, trying to sound casual, still staring into the waves.

"Thanks, but you're just cold. It's crazy stuff, isn't it? No wonder my mom doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone."

I smiled suddenly. "Crazy enough to make a novel. Throw in a few wizards, maybe a dragon or two, and you've got yourself a book any nerd will be willing to read."

She chuckled. "Bonnie would arrange to kill me if she found out. But seriously, don't say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at my mom when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there."

"I won't say anything to Charlie," I promised. "But I have another question."

"What is it?"

"Are you the only tribe that can transform into werewolves, or that had ancestors who could turn into werewolves? I mean surely there were other tribes that could do the same. And why didn't they fight the colonists when they came over?"

She looked puzzled. "I don't know. I'd have to ask my mom. I've never thought about it, really." She suddenly looked amused. "You're not actually taking this stuff seriously, are you?"

"No," I replied quickly. "I'm just curious, that's all."

And then we both heard the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see McKayla and Jeremy about fifty yards away, walking toward us.

"There you are, Beau," McKayla called in relief, waving her arm over her head. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Is that your girlfriend?" Jules asked, picking up the edge in McKayla's voice.

"Sort of. She takes it a lot more seriously, though."

"I can see that."

I gave her a slightly exasperated smile.

"You ever need a break from these friends of yours, let me know."

"That sounds cool," I said, and I meant it. Maybe it was the fact that I'd known her for a long time, or because she was so easygoing, but I felt more comfortable with Jules than I felt with anyone else I'd known in Forks.

McKayla had reached us now, with Jeremy a few paces back, struggling to keep up. McKayla looked Jules up and down once, then turned to me in a move that was strangely dismissive of Jules. Jules snorted and looked away.

"Where have you been?" McKayla asked, though the answer was right in front of her.

"Jules was giving me the guided tour of First Beach." I smiled at Jules and she grinned back. Again, it was like we had a shared secret. Of course, that was true now.

"Well," McKayla said, eyeing Jules again. "We're packing up. Looks like it's going to rain."

We all glanced up – sure enough, there were cumulonimbus cloud formations directly overhead.

"Okay," I said. "I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you _again_ ," Jules emphasized, and I guessed she was messing with McKayla.

"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Bonnie, I'll come too."

Her grin stretched across her entire face, showing her straight white teeth.

"That would be cool."

"And thanks," I added in a low voice, hoping I sounded casual.

She winked at me.

I pulled up my hood as we trudged across the rocks toward the parking lot. The rain was beginning to come down, and by the time we got to the Suburban the others were already loading everything back in. I sat in the back this time, next to Allen and Taylor. I lay my head back over the seat, closed my eyes, and soon became lost in thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Author's note- Thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, favorited, or followed my story! The next chapter might take me a while, but it's where things will really get interesting. And please, don't try that experiment at home.

 _I can calculate the motion of heavenly bodies, but not the madness of people_ – Isaac Newton

Since we came back sooner than expected, I had time to prepare for my trip to Seattle. I went to my room without bothering to greet Charlie; he was watching a basketball game, and he hated interruptions.

Once in my room, I locked the door. I picked up the _Highway to Hell_ CD album from AC/DC that Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, and it quickly became one of my favorites as well. I placed it in my CD player and hit Play, turning up the volume as I began gathering everything I would be taking for the trip. More importantly, I needed to make sure I didn't forget anything.

I ran through the list: ammonium nitrate, fuel oil, powdered aluminum, Tovex, gunpowder, and a few other things. My primary concern was not whether I'd find them, but whether I could afford them. Then I remembered I had Edythe to bail me out.

I smiled, turned off the CD player and the lights, and climbed to bed.

I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Though part of my mind seemed to know that I was dreaming, most of me was just present in the green light of the forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby, and I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun. I tried to follow the sound, but then Julie was there, tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.

"Jules? What's wrong?" I asked. Her face was frightened as she yanked on my hand, trying to tow me back into the dark.

"Run, Beau, you have to run!" she whispered, terrified.

"This way, Beau!" It was McKayla's voice I heard now, calling from the thick of the trees, but I couldn't see her.

"Why? What's going on?" I tried pulling my hand from Jules's grasp. Finding the sun was paramount in this dream for some reason. It was all I could focus on.

And then Jules dropped my hand – she let out a strange yelp and, suddenly shaking, she fell twitching to the ground. I watched in horror, unable to move.

"Julie!" I yelled, but she was gone. In her place was a big, red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the hair on the back of her shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between her exposed fangs.

"Beau, run!" McKayla cried out again from behind me. But I didn't run. I was watching a light, coming toward me from the beach.

And then Edythe stepped out from the trees.

She wore a black dress. It hung all the way to the ground but exposed her arms to the shoulders and had a deep-cut V for a neckline. Her skin was faintly glowing, and her eyes were the same color as her dress. She held up one hand and beckoned me to come to her. Her nails were filed into sharp points and painted a red so dark they were almost as black as her dress. Her lips were the same color.

The wolf between us growled.

I was frozen in place, unable to look away from her. She smiled, and between her dark lips her teeth were sharp, pointed, like her fingernails.

"Trust me," she purred.

 _Like hell I will_. But I couldn't move.

The wolf launched herself across the space between Edythe and me, fangs aiming for the jugular.

I tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Suddenly I was back in bed, sitting upright and drenched in sweat. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser; it was 5:35 a.m.

I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face. That's it, I thought. No more drugs.

I knew I wouldn't get any more sleep, so I decided to pack my things and leave by 6:00. I'd arranged to meet with Edythe at 8:30, but something told me I was better off on my own. I knew it was illogical to base my decision on some opioid-induced dream, but I had a feeling something bad would happen if I went with Edythe. I knew she'd be disappointed and demand an explanation, but that was fine by me; I'd just make something up later. Or maybe I should tell her about my dream; it would be interesting to observe her reaction. Regardless, I was going to Seattle alone.

I was on the road, still trying to convince myself I'd made the right decision. I wouldn't have to tell Charlie anything; he'd never known that Edythe had offered to take me to Seattle. And besides, Edythe might not agree to transport my… chemistry supplies back to Forks. And in any case, I didn't think she would want to go to church with me. But it was no use. I felt like I'd betrayed her, all over some stupid dream. I _knew_ I'd betrayed her, but the decision had been made.

When the sun finally broke through the horizon, I once again remembered the dream. I'd been trying to reach the sun then, but I never could. But this wasn't a dream. The sun was real, and that's where I was headed. I grinned and reached for my CD player and headphones. The trip to Seattle would take awhile, and I couldn't think of a better way to pass the time than listening to _Highway to Hell_.

I came back home exhausted. It had taken me longer than I'd expected to find what I was looking for, and I'd been forced to forgo several items on my list that were too expensive. I also had to make sure everything was ready to use by tomorrow; I didn't want my dad to enter my room at 3:00 a.m. to find me tinkering with explosives. I had considered skipping church, but I promised my mom I would never stop going, and I had no intention of breaking any more promises.

The lights were out, and I realized Charlie wasn't home, for which I was glad. If he knew what I bought, I'd never hear the end of it. I unloaded the supplies and took them to my room, trying to find a good hiding place for them. Charlie rarely came into my room, so I decided to just place everything under the bed. I didn't think I would have them for very long anyway.

I took a quick shower, then got dressed and went to bed, hoping I didn't have any heroin-induced nightmares this time.

For the second time since arriving in Forks, I woke to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I went to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky. I opened the window – surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, though I hadn't opened it in years. – and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was lukewarm, and hardly windy at all. This was going to be a good day.

Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately.

"Nice day out," he commented. "So how was the trip? Did you find everything you were looking for?"

"Yeah," I said, grinning. It was true, technically. I hadn't bought everything, but I had what I needed.

He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. Whenever he smiled that way, it was easier to imagine him as the man who had impulsively married a beautiful girl he barely knew when he was only three years older than I was now. There wasn't much of that man remaining. He'd faded over the years, but there was still some of that old spirit left.

I ate breakfast with a smile on my face, watching the dust motes stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.

After a short battle, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even glanced at my watch in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. I still had that Macbeth paper to write, but right now I didn't really feel like doing anything. I simply leaned back against the table, legs crossed, "chillaxing" as some of my peers were fond of saying.

"Beau!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like McKayla. I looked around to see that the school had filled with kids while I'd been sitting here. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts, thought the temperature couldn't be more than 16°C. McKayla was coming toward me in a skirt that only reached the middle of her thighs and a tank top. My eyes bulged.

"Hey, McKayla," I answered, smirking. "You're looking good."

She came to sit with me, the sun shimmering off her freshly straightened hair, a grin stretching across her face. She was very happy to see me, and I couldn't help but feel responsive (though perhaps not for the same reasons).

"Great day, isn't it?"

"My kind of day," I agreed.

"What did you do yesterday?" she asked in a rather proprietary tone, which I found amusing. Did this girl think she owned me?

"I went to Seattle to buy a few things," I replied casually.

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? Like what?"

I grinned. "You'll find out soon. Speaking of which, do you think you could tell the other students about a science demonstration I plan to host after school? I promise it'll be worth their time, and yours."

She shook her head, grinning. "Just what are you planning?"

"Like I said, you'll find out soon." I gave her a mysterious smile.

She laughed. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to do something really bad? Ok, I'll let them know."

"So," she asked, suddenly serious. "Do you want to go out today?"

I smiled at her. "Who can say no to a face like that?" She broke into a smile as well.

It was true: I could hardly say no to a girl like McKayla. I glanced at her legs, trying to seem casual. Had she come dressed like this with the intent to seduce me? If so, then it worked. I sighed inwardly: McKayla was far less attractive than Edythe, but she was much more easygoing, not to mention mentally stable. Maybe that was what I needed; a girl who wasn't complicated and who genuinely wanted to be around me, without any of the crap about being dangerous. On the other hand, I wasn't sure I was ready for a real relationship, and McKayla seemed a little too possessive.

I glanced at my watch and rose from the table. "I don't want to be late again. I'm already on Mr. Mason's hit list."

She grinned again. " Alright. So have you done the _Macbeth_ essay?"

I laughed. "I haven't even started on it."

When I saw Jeremy in Trig, he was just as fired up by the sunny day as I was. He, Allen, and Logan were headed into Port Angeles to catch a movie and order corsages for the dance, and I was invited. I told them him the science experiment I was planning today, hoping to change their minds (excluding Logan). When he saw my mischievous look, he decided to go along.

Finally we were on our way to lunch. I simultaneously dreaded and could not wait for this moment; I wanted to see Edythe, but did not know how I would justify leaving her behind. I did not have to worry, however; a quick glance at the Cullens' table revealed that it was empty. Not only was Edythe gone, but so was the rest of her family. I expected to feel relief, but instead I felt more apprehensive. I'd have to face her sooner or later. Was possible in fact that I had somehow been responsible for this? No, that was ridiculous. Why would the rest of her family care what I did? I reminded myself that they had been absent on a number of other occasions. Who knew what they were up to?

We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I vaguely noticed that Erica had saved a seat for Jeremy, and that his face lit up in response.

Allen asked a few quiet questions about the _Macbeth_ paper, though I told him I wasn't the best person to ask.

"So you're doing a science experiment after school?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," I replied cheerfully. "Trust me, you won't want to miss it."

He smiled. "Ok. I'll be there."

Most of the students eventually found out about my upcoming experiment, though they took care not to discuss it while other teachers were present. Biology class was brimming with anticipation, but my regret for Edythe's absence was beyond words.

After Gym class I rushed to my truck and unloaded everything I would need, then went to the spot where I planned to do the demonstration. Nearly a dozen students were already gathered there, and they began cheering when they saw me walking toward them with the supplies, though I noticed McKayla and Jeremy weren't there.

I smiled, then glanced at my watch. I had twenty minutes to set everything up if I wanted to meet my timetable.

I was in the process of making final adjustments on the Tovex, which would serve as the primer for the explosion, when McKayla arrived in her car with Jeremy and Erica in tow. McKayla got off her car but left the door open.

"Did you find it?" I asked her.

"You bet," she replied, smirking.

"Beau!" Jeremy exclaimed. "What are you up to, man?"

Almost fifty people were gathered, and everything was just about set now, so I decided to make the announcement.

"Alright, listen up." I scanned the crowd and noticed almost everyone I knew was present and accounted for: Jeremy, Erica, McKayla, Allen, Becca, and Taylor. Logan wasn't here, but he would not be missed.

"I promised you all a science experiment, and I hope you leave with your minds blown." I looked at McKayla. "Hit it."

She grinned, and placed another of my AC/DC albums, _Back in Black_ , in her car's CD player. She skipped to the second song, _Shoot to Thrill_ , and turned up the volume.

"What do you get when you blow up ammonium nitrate and fuel oil in a 17:1 ratio?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

"In addition to gaseous nitrogen, carbon dioxide, and H2O, you get a velocity of detonation of 7600 meters per second, powerful enough to blow up a building, if you build a big enough bomb. Of course, I could only afford so much, but I'll have to ask all of you to stand back: this will still be very dangerous."

There were plenty of murmurs among the students now as they distanced themselves from the setup. McKayla, who was walking toward me, shook her head in disbelief.

"You're insane," she said, an expression of awe in her pretty face.

I wrapped my arm around her. "I'm just trying to bring a little life into this town."

She smiled, and our lips met for the first time. It was incredible: I'd never even had a girlfriend before, and now I had a gorgeous girl falling in love with me.

Reluctantly, I parted my lips from hers, and pulled the detonator from my pocket.

"Ladies and gentlemen, _this_ is how you break the ice." I pressed the trigger.

There was a tremendous boom and a cloud of smoke as the explosion tore through the forest, splintering trees and sending dirt flying in all directions. I'd underestimated the magnitude of the explosion; my ears were ringing, even though I was standing with the rest of the students almost fifty feet away.

Evidently not all of the students had been similarly affected; I heard cheering and hoots from many of them, most of them males. They'd probably never seen a real explosion in their lives.

They began chanting my new name. "Beau the Bomber! Beau the Bomber!

I smiled. "Thank you all, for your support and encouragement. But please, don't try this at home, unless you want a visit from the Department of Homeland Security. And that's probably the best-case scenario."

Just then, I heard what I thought was Mr. Mason's voice. "Hey, what are you kids doing over there?"

Oh crap. "Everybody run!"

The next day was comparatively uneventful. I spent much of it reminiscing about my date with McKayla. She'd taken me to her parents' house for dinner; evidently she wanted to formalize our relationship, which I thought was a good idea, if an old-fashioned one. Her mother, Karen Newton, certainly knew how to cook a meal. She made chicken teriyaki, which was absolutely delicious. I found Mr. Newton agreeable as well; we all exchanged jokes at the dinner table, and he told me the ins and outs of running a business.

"Maybe you could work here part-time," he'd suggested.

"That sounds good," I had said. "I'll need to save up for my prom dress."

We all got a good laugh at that. I felt a slight twinge of envy, though. Why couldn't I have a family like this?

Jeremy and Allen invited me to the movie they were supposed to watch yesterday. I was relieved to hear that Logan wasn't coming after all, and accepted their offer. McKayla had wanted to come, but she had to finish her Macbeth paper. I'd finished mine in about an hour, and I offered to let her copy, but she refused, claiming that it wouldn't be fair to take advantage of my work (and Mr. Mason would notice anyway).

After school Jeremy followed me home in his old white Mercury so that I could ditch my truck, and then we headed to Allen's. He was waiting for us.

"So what movie are we watching," I asked Jeremy.

" _Hitch_ ," he replied, smiling. "It's a romantic comedy, starring Will Smith. You know I'll watch anything if he's in it."

What a shame, I thought, as we drove out of the town limits. I'd have loved watching that movie with McKayla. Or Edythe.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jeremy drove faster than Charlie, so we made it to Port Angeles by four. He took us to the florist first, where the glossy woman behind the counter quickly upsold Allen from roses to orchids, though it didn't work on me. Allen and I chose fast, but it took Jeremy a lot longer to figure out what he wanted.

"Oh come on," I told him. "Is she really that important to you?"

The saleswoman, for her part, kept nagging about the significance of selecting the right flowers and spoke at length about the different symbolic meanings of each. I tried ignoring her, to no avail. It was all the more tedious because I already knew everything she was saying; my mom was thoroughly obsessed with flowers and had graciously imparted her knowledge on to me.

I had enough. I looked at her. "Do I get a discount if I act like I care?"

"That was rude," Allen remarked dryly. We were sitting on a bench by the plate glass windows, still waiting for Jeremy.

"I have a habit of speaking my mind." I was staring up at the sky, having already forgotten about the incident.

"I've noticed." He smiled. "Was it worth it, getting kicked out?"

"It's her loss. Her shop was empty before we got here." I turned to him. "So how are things going between you and Becca?"

"Good," he replied. "We're going out tomorrow." He paused. "She doesn't think it's a good idea for me to hang around with you, though. She says you're a bad influence."

"What do you think?" I asked.

He hesitated. "I don't know."

"Well," I said carefully. "Don't let anyone else decide who you hang around with. That's often a sign of a bad relationship." I shrugged. "But what do I know? I've never even been in a relationship."

He smiled again, this time ruefully. "Me neither."

Jeremy finally came out, having settled on white flowers with a white bow.

"White chrysanthemums," I observed. "You know those are usually given out during funerals?"

"But don't worry. I doubt Erica knows that. And it's not like we live in Japan."

Jeremy rolled his eyes but didn't respond to my remark. He intended to check out a video game store a few blocks to the east.

"I'm going to run an errand. I'll meet you at the theater."

"Sure." Allen and Jeremy were already heading there.

It was sort of a relief to be alone again. Previews were usually boring anyway, especially for comedies, and I needed to find another florist shop, hopefully with someone less annoying.

I wandered up another street, and then found myself on an angled byway that confused me. I hoped I was heading toward downtown again, but I wasn't sure if the road was going to curve back in the direction I wanted or not. I knew I should be paying more attention, but I couldn't stop thinking about what Allen had said. Was I a bad influence on other people? Should I even care? I certainly never cared back in Phoenix, but it was so different now. Allen, especially, seemed like he could be a real friend. How ironic; I'd been the one to encourage Becca to ask Allen out, and now she was warning him to stay away from me.

I trudged off in what I thought was a northeasterly direction, heading for some glass-fronted buildings that looked promising, but when I got to them, it was just a closed vacuum repair shop and a vacant space. I sighed. Someday all phones would come equipped with GPS, and no one would have to suffer like this again. But until then… I walked around the corner of the repair shop to see if there were any other stores.

It was a wrong turn – just leading around to a side alley where the dumpsters were. But it wasn't empty. Staring at the huddled circle of people, I thought I spotted a familiar figure, though I couldn't remember who it was.

They noticed my staring. Six faces turned in my direction. There were four men and two women. One of the women and two of the men quickly turned their backs to me, shoving their hands into their pockets, and I had the impression that they were hiding the things they'd been holding. The other woman had dark black hair, and she too looked strangely familiar as she glared in my direction. When one of the men had spun around, I'd gotten a quick glimpse of what looked a gun stuffed into the back of his jeans.

I really had no business being here. I quickly started walking forward, crossing the mouth of the alley and heading on to the next street, pretending I hadn't noticed them. Just as I was out of view, I heard a voice whisper behind me.

" _Isn't he the kid you were looking for?"_

What the hell were they talking about? I glanced behind me, just to make sure they weren't talking about someone else, but there was no one else on the empty street. I was farther off the main road than I'd realized. I picked up the pace, trying to get as far away from these people as I could.

I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several gray warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered far past the part of Port Angeles that guests were supposed to see. Idly I wondered if this was what eastern Los Angeles looked like. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, and instinctively glanced up. It was getting dark now – the clouds were back and piling up on the western horizon, creating an early sunset. I'd left my jacket in Jeremy's car, and a sharp wind made me shove my hands in my pockets. A single van passed me, and then the road was empty.

"Well, look who we have here," a woman's voice called from behind me.

I looked back, and it was the woman I'd seen before, the familiar one. Behind her were two of the men from the alley – a tall guy, the one who looked familiar, and the shorter man who I thought might be the one who'd had the gun.

"Do I know you?" I asked, feigning indifference and trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

She smiled. "Oh, I think you do." Suddenly I remembered. I'd bumped into two of these idiots at the airport. Is this what this was about?

She spoke again. "But there's someone else who'd like to see you."

And then I saw him step out in front of the group. Someone I'd hoped never to see again. Unlike the woman, he showed no trace of a smile.

"It's been awhile," the Man said.

"Hey, I paid for the merchandise," I said, taking a step back. My voice was beginning to break at this point. "I don't owe you anything."

"Oh yes you do. You ratted us out to the police. Now the DEA's banging down our doors. They've already arrested most of the people involved, and I'm next." He looked at me with undisguised loathing. "But not before I'm done with you."

What? When did the DEA get involved? "Wait, you've got this all wrong. I had nothing to do with it. I didn't even know they'd been making arrests." Keep it together. There has to be a way out of this.

"Of course," he snarled. "Your dad's the police chief and the arrests started right after I sold you the heroin, but that's just one big coincidence, right? How stupid do you think I am?"

He probably didn't want to know the answer to that. "And just why the hell would the DEA hire a 17-year-old to infiltrate a drug ring? You know how much trouble I'd be in if they found out? Trust me, I didn't plan for any of this."

He took a step forward. "Well you won't have to worry about that anymore. I'll send them all the message." He withdrew his gun and pointed it right at me.

Suddenly the short one spoke. Terrified as I was, I hadn't even remembered the rest of them were still here. "We need to keep this quiet." He bent to grab a broken piece of pipe from the gutter. "Put the gun away." He tossed it to the Man, who caught it with one hand.

I wasn't getting out of this one. But I'd be damned if I went down without a fight. I clenched my fist. "Alright, then. Just you and me."

He grinned. "I'm gonna enjoy this." He walked towards me, and as he did the woman cheered him on. "Take his head off, Ryan!"

So that was his name. Ryan swung the pipe at me, but I dodged and punched him in the face. As he staggered back, I kicked his right arm, the one holding the pipe. The pipe fell to the ground, but before I could reach it the woman picked it up. She smirked and waved the pipe at me.

I turned my attention to Ryan, who had already recovered. Now angrier than ever, he lunged forward and hit me in the jaw with an uppercut, then kneed me in the abdomen, knocking the air out of my lungs. Before I could react, he hit me squarely in the chest. I lost my balance and fell on the pavement, struggling to breathe.

He pulled out his gun again. "Enough playing around." He cocked the gun and aimed it right between my eyes.

Suddenly I chuckled. He looked confused, but I didn't care. The chuckle turned into a laugh, high-pitched and mirthless. "So this is how it ends. I get murdered in a back alley in the middle of nowhere by some thugs looking for revenge."

He smiled viciously. " That's right."

I met his cold stare. "You really think you'll get away with this?"

"Maybe. But you'll be too dead to find out."

"Then what are you waiting for?" The fear was entirely gone now, replaced by anger and… regret. Regret, for all of the things I didn't do, all of the things I could have accomplished. I thought about everyone I would leave behind: Charlie, Renee, McKayla, and Edythe. I'd never see her again; I'd never find out the truth about her.

A shrill squeal interrupted my musings. We all stared up as the noise turned piercing.

Headlights flew around the corner and then barreled right at me. The car was just inches from hitting Ryan before he jumped out of the way. The chain-link rattled when he rammed into it. I stood up, intending to run, but the car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door flying open just a few feet from me.

"Get in," a furious voice hissed.

The rush of emotions when I heard her voice was impossible to describe. I dove into the Volvo's dark interior, not even questioning how she'd come to be here, relief and a new panic swamping me at the same time. What if she got hurt? I yanked the door shut behind me while I shouted.

"Drive, Edythe, get out of here. He's got a gun." Hell, it looked like they _all_ had guns.

But the car didn't move.

"Keep your head _down_ ," she ordered, and I heard the driver's side door open.

"Edythe, wait – " I reached for her, but she was too fast. She closed the door, and gazed at Ryan, her face twisted in a mask of hatred. I could only stare at her, horrified. What the hell was she doing?

"This isn't any of your business, little girl –" he began, but was silenced by a kick in the chest. He went flying until he hit the chain-link fence and fell to the ground, groaning in pain.

Edythe turned to the others, who had pulled out their guns and were all aiming at her.

"Stay away, or we'll shoot," the airport woman said.

Inexplicably, Edythe smiled. Then she moved, faster than my eyes could see, and knocked out every one of them before they could even fire a shot. Edythe then approached Ryan, who was still conscious. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and lifted him.

Then, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear (though everyone else was unconscious), she spoke, her voice full of rage. "If I ever see any of you near him again, I will rip your heads off. If you mention this to anyone, I'll find you and make you wish you'd never been born. Do you understand me?"

Ryan nodded weakly. Edythe dropped him and walked back to the Volvo, entirely unscathed, her movements smooth and graceful as always. As if beating up a bunch of thugs was part of her daily routine.

Throughout the ordeal, I had simply gaped at her, my mind unable to fully process what was going on.

Edythe took the driver's seat and closed the door.

"Put on your seat belt," she told me.

I obeyed, though it didn't really seem important at all, considering what had just happened.

The snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness.

She took a sharp left, then blew through several stop signs without a pause.

But I felt oddly at ease, and totally unconcerned about where we were going. I stared at her face – lit only by the dim dashboard lights, and felt a profound relief that went beyond my lucky escape.

She was here. She was real.

She suddenly stopped the car on the side of the road and looked at me, concerned.

"Are you OK?" she asked, almost apologetically. "How badly did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine," I replied. I hadn't even remembered the pain after I saw her. "Did they do anything to you?"

Ignoring the question, she touched my jaw gently, and I winced.

"Sorry," she said, and quickly pulled her hand away.

"It's nothing," I assured her. Her hand was smooth and cold, and it numbed some of the pain. I berated myself for not hiding it more effectively.

"Are you sure?" She still looked worried.

"Yeah." The last thing I needed right now was another trip to the hospital.

Her expression changed from concern to suspicion.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do."

I'd been afraid of this. She had quite a bit of explaining to do herself, but I had a feeling she wasn't going to answer any of my questions, though it still wouldn't hurt to try.

"Are you working with the DEA?" she asked. She sounded slightly hopeful, but I saw the despair in her eyes. She already knew the answer.

I remained silent.

She closed her eyes. "Why, Beau? What have you gotten yourself into?"

"First of all, how did you even know where I was? And secondly, how the hell did you manage to take on six armed people without even a scratch? And third, how much do you know? Were you spying on me? On second thought, don't answer that."

It was her turn to stay silent.

Finally she spoke, her eyes still closed. "Promise me, Beau. Promise me you'll never do it again."

"I promise." I'd have done it even if she hadn't asked me, having seen the consequences. But now that she knew, I had yet another reason never to fall back on my little habit; I didn't want to let her down. I insisted it was a habit. I was _no_ t a heroin addict. Yet somehow that just made it worse.

She opened her eyes and sighed. "Your friends must be worried about you," she said.

I glanced at my watch. It was past six-thirty. She was probably right. But how did she even know I hadn't come alone?

Without another word, she started the engine and spun the car around. Then we were speeding back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving easily through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. She parallel parked against the curb in a space I'd have thought inadequate for the Volvo, but she slid in with one try. I looked out the window to see the theater's brightly lit marquee. Allen and Jeremy were just leaving, pacing away from us.

I didn't even ask how she knew where they were. I had a feeling I already had the answer.

"Stop them before I have to track them down, too. I won't be able to restrain myself if I run into those bastards again."

Restrain herself? I jumped out of the car but kept my hand on the frame. As much as I hated those lowlifes, I didn't want anyone to die today.

"Allen! Jeremy!" I shouted.

They weren't very far. They both turned, and I waved my free arm over my head. They rushed back, the relief on both their faces turning to surprise when they took in the car I was standing next to. Allen stared into the recesses of the car, and then his eyes popped wide in recognition.

"What happened to you?" Jeremy demanded. "We thought you took off."

"No, I just got lost. And then I ran into Edythe."

She leaned forward and smiled through the windshield. Now Jeremy's eyes bugged out.

"Oh, hi… Edythe," Allen said.

She waved at him with two fingers, and he swallowed loudly. I stared at him, amused, though his reaction was understandable. The two had probably never spoken, and Edythe could be stunning without even trying.

"Uh, hey," Jeremy said in her direction; then he stared at me – I must have looked odd, my one hand locked in the frame of the open door, but I wasn't letting go. "So… the movie's already started, I think."

"Sorry about that," I said.

He checked his watch. "It's probably still just running previews. Did you … still want to come?"

I hesitated, glancing at Edythe.

"Would you like to come … Edythe?" Allen asked politely, though he had some trouble getting her name out.

Edythe opened her door and stepped out, shaking her long hair back from her face. She leaned on the frame and smiled, her dimples prominently displayed. Jeremy's mouth fell open.

"I've already seen this one, but thank you, Allen," she said.

Allen blinked and seemed to forget how to speak. She seemed to have an even stronger effect on them than she did on me. Or maybe I just did a better job of hiding it.

Edythe glanced over at me. "Do you really want to see the movie?" she murmured.

It seemed fate had quite a sense of irony. I'd come here wishing I could've seen the movie with McKayla or Edythe. And yet now that I was here, I had not the slightest desire to watch this or any other movie. "Not that much," I whispered back.

She smiled directly at Jeremy now. "Will it ruin your night if I make Beau take me to dinner?" she asked.

Jeremy just shook his head. He hadn't remembered how to close his mouth yet. I doubted he would miss me; I certainly wouldn't miss him.

"Thanks," she told him, showing her dimples again. "I'll give Beau a ride home."

She slid back inside.

"Get in the car, Beau," she said.

Allen and Jeremy stared. I shrugged quickly and then ducked into the passenger seat.

"The hell?" I heard Jeremy breathe as I slammed my door.

I didn't get another look at their reactions. She was already racing away.

"Did you really want dinner?" I asked her.

She looked at me questioningly. Was she thinking what I was thinking – that I'd never actually seen her eat anything?

"I thought you might," she finally said.

I considered my options. I wasn't feeling very hungry, but I didn't want to go home either, not with Edythe present. "Ok."

She smiled and stopped the car. We were parked right in front of an Italian place.

My palms started to sweat a little as I jumped out of the car, hurrying to hold the restaurant's door for her. I'd gone out with McKayla, but it was nothing like this. Behaving like a gentleman was the least I could do for her.

She smiled at me as she walked past, and my heart suddenly skipped a beat.

The restaurant wasn't crowded – this was the off-season in Port Angeles. The host was a meticulously groomed man a few years older than me, about my height but more heavily built. His reaction upon seeing Edythe was similar to that of Allen and Jeremy. He then put on his smarmiest smile and bowed clumsily, all for her. I didn't think he was even aware that I was standing next to her.

"What can I do for you?" he asked as he straightened up, still looking only at her.

"A table for two, please."

He finally noticed I was there. The look he gave me was quick and dismissive. His eyes shifted to her immediately. I knew I shouldn't blame him for that, but I suddenly began to get angry.

"Of course, er, _mademoiselle_." He grabbed two leather folders and gestured for Edythe to follow. Idiot. Did this oaf know any Italian?

He led us to a four-top in the middle of the most crowded part of the dining room. I reached for a chair, but Edythe shook her head at me.

"Perhaps something more private?" she said quietly to the host. It looked like she brushed the top of his hand with her fingers, which was unlike her – she didn't touch people if she could help it – but then I saw him slide that hand to a pocket inside his suit coat, and I realized that she'd given him a tip. I'd never seen anyone refuse a table like that except in old movies. I honestly didn't think it was necessary; the oaf probably would have given her any table she asked for.

"Of course," the host said, sounding surprised. He led us around a partition to a small ring of booths, all of them empty. "How is this?"

"Perfect," she said, and unleashed her smile on him.

Like a deer in headlights, the host froze for a long second, and then he slowly started turning back toward the main floor, our menus still the crook of his arm.

"Excuse me," I said. "You still have our menus."

"Yes, sorry." He smiled politely at Edythe and left our menus at the center of the table.

" _Sei l'host più incompetente che abbia mai visto_ ," I said, not bothering to hide the scorn in my voice. " _Ou préférez-vous être adressée en Français_?"

His expression made it abundantly clear he had no idea what I was saying, not that I was surprised. Edythe, on the other hand, was appalled.

"That was uncalled for," she said reproachfully as he walked away.

I raised my eyebrows. "You understood what I told him?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. "

Edythe was full of surprises. "Then you know I only told him what he needed to hear. Although," I said with a crooked smile, " I'll admit you do make it much harder for other guys to do their jobs."

Edythe smiled. "Oh, and you don't? You called the poor guy an incompetent in Italian, then insulted him in French."

"He had it coming. But seriously, you have to know the effect you have on other males. They look at you and they don't even know how to respond. It's even worse when you smile at them. It's kind of the opposite of what I do."

She chucked. "So – this effect – does it work on you?"

"Not at first," I admitted. "But it's gotten a lot harder to resist lately."

And then our server arrived with an expectant expression, which quickly shifted to awe. Whatever the host had told him, it had been an understatement.

"Hello," he said, surprise making his voice monotone as he mechanically recited his lines. "My name is Sal, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get you to drink?"

Like the host's, his eyes never strayed from her face. It was something I would just have to deal with.

"Beau?" she prompted.

"A lemonade, please."

I might as well not have spoken at all. The waiter just kept staring at Edythe. She flashed a grin at me before turning to him.

"Two lemonades," she told him, and, almost like an experiment, she smiled a wide, dimpled smile right into his face.

He actually wobbled, and for a second I thought he'd lose his balance.

She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. The waiter shook his head and blinked, trying to reorient. I watched him carefully; though I wasn't angry anymore, I also lacked sympathy for him. He had a job to do, and if I could resist Edythe's charms (at least temporarily), so could he.

As if she were reading my mind, Edythe spoke. "I guess not everyone's as strong as you."

"I guess not. But you really hadn't noticed that before?"

"It's been a while since I cared what anyone thought about me," she said. "And I don't usually smile so much."

I contemplated that for a moment. She and I had more in common than I'd thought.

"So," she began. "Shall we talk about what happened tonight?"

Again, I was silent. It wasn't that I didn't think she deserved to know the truth, but I didn't know where to begin.

She frowned. "How do you feel? Does it still hurt, where he hit you? Are you cold, dizzy, or sick?"

I was still feeling sore, but right now I couldn't care less about that. "I'm not going into shock, if that's what you're worried about. It takes more than a few thugs to keep me down."

She laughed. "I've seen it happen with less provocation."

I pursed my lips, remembering that day. I supposed I would have to explain that as well, if she hadn't figured it out already. "I think I'm fine right now. Thanks."

"Still, I'll fell better when you have some food in you."

I probably would as well. On cue, the waiter appeared with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. He stood with his back to me while he placed them on the table, then handed Edythe a menu. Done with her experiments, she didn't so much as look at him this time. She just pushed the menu across the table to me. He cleared his throat nervously. " There are a few specials. Um, we have a mushroom ravioli and chicken parmigiana – "

"Excellent. I'll have the parmigiana." That had always been one of my favorite dishes, and I didn't want to keep Edythe waiting.

He finally threw a surprised glance my way, and then his attention was back to her.

"And for you…?"

"That's all we need. Thank you."

Of course.

He waited for a second, probably hoping for another smile. Keep hoping, I thought. When Edythe kept her eyes on me, he gave up and walked away.

"Drink," Edythe said. It sounded like an order.

I rolled my eyes and started drinking. I was really thirsty at this point anyway. Before I knew it, I'd finished the entire glass. She then slid her glass toward me.

"No, I'm fine," I told her.

" _I'm_ not going to drink it," she said; her tone making it clear that this was something I should already know.

Actually I did, but I liked screwing with her anyway. "Why not? You need to stay hydrated too."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "I'm already hydrated. But thanks for asking." Her expression darkened for a brief moment, then returned to normal. She looked at me expectantly.

I shrugged and started drinking her glass.

"Thanks," I muttered. The cold from the lemonade was radiating through my chest, and I had to shake off a shiver.

"You're cold?" she asked, serious now. Like a doctor.

"It's just the lemonade," I explained, fighting another shiver. I wished that was the only reason.

"Don't you have a jacket?"

"Yeah." Automatically, I patted the empty seat next to me. "Oh – I left it in Jeremy's car. Oh well." I shivered again.

Edythe started unwinding a rather expensive-looking bone-colored scarf from around her neck.

"Here," she said, tossing the scarf to me.

I pushed it back. "I'm fine. Really."

She cocked her head to the side. "The hairs on the back of your neck are standing up, Beau," she stated. "It's not a lady's scarf, if that's what's bothering you. I stole it from Archie."

"I don't need it," I insisted. "And you shouldn't go around stealing things."

"Fine, Royal has a jacket in the trunk, I'll be right – "

She started to move, but before she could get up, I finally relented.

"Ok, fine, I'll wear it." The truth was, I didn't want her to leave. It was so embarrassing, especially knowing that she was just going to her car, but I couldn't help it.

I grabbed the scarf from the table – it was very soft, and not at all warm, the way it should be after coming off someone's body – and started to wrap it around my neck. I'd never worn a scarf before, so I just wound it in a circle until I ran out of fabric.

This one smelled amazing, and familiar. I realized this was a hint of the fragrance from the car. It must be her.

"Did I do it right?" I asked her. The soft knit was already warming to my skin, and it did help.

"It suits you," she said, but then she laughed, so I guessed that meant the answer was no.

"Do you steal a lot of things from Archie? I'll admit it's a nice scarf, but I can't condone stealing."

She shrugged. "He has the best taste. And I consider it borrowing, if it makes you feel any better."

"You never told me about your family. We ran out of time the other day." It was just last Thursday, but it felt so long ago.

She pushed the basket of breadsticks toward me.

"Those things tend to make me bloated," I said.

She smiled. "Humor me."

I gave in. "Fine." I grabbed a breadstick.

"Good boy," she laughed.

I just gave her a dark look as I chewed.

"I know you don't really want to talk about this, but what you went through would put almost anyone in shock." She shook her head. "But you're not just anyone, are you?"

I swallowed the breadstick. "It made me think. About my life, all the things I'd never do, and all the screwed-up things I had done." I stared at the table, lost in thought.

She looked at me sympathetically, and I continued.

"It's funny, but I thought about you just before you got there."

"Really?" she asked. She seemed genuinely surprised.

"Why is that so shocking?"

"It's just – I was under the impression that I didn't mean anything to you."

I frowned. "How can you say that? You're the most remarkable person I've ever met."

Just then, the waiter came around the partition with my food. I realized we'd been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the table, because we both straightened up as he approached. He set the dish in front of me – it looked delicious – and turned quickly to Edythe.

"Did you change your mind?" he asked. "Isn't there anything I can get you?" I didn't think I was imagining the double meaning in his offer. Imbecile.

"Some more soda would be nice," she said, gesturing to the empty glasses without looking away from me.

The waiter stared at me now, and I could tell he was wondering why someone like Edythe would be looking at someone like me that way. I honestly didn't know either.

He grabbed the glasses and stalked off.

"I imagine you have a lot of questions for me," Edythe murmured.

"A few," I said. "Thousand."

"I'm sure … Can I ask you one first? Is that unfair?"

I nodded warily. "What do you want to know?"

She stared down at the table now, her eyes hidden under her black lashes. Her hair fell forward, shielding more of her face.

The words weren't much more than a whisper. "We spoke before, about how you were … trying to figure out what I am. I was just wondering if you'd made any more progress with that."

I scrutinized her, trying to figure out how to say it. It was so preposterous, but there was really no other explanation. I decided now wasn't the time.

"Well," I said, trying to sound lighthearted. "Your name comes from Old English, but you look Irish, well somewhat. So your ancestors lived in northern Europe."

"Really?" she asked, in a tone of mock incredulity. "And here I thought I was African." She rolled her eyes again. "You know what I'm really asking."

"I don't know what you're talking about. But you asked your question. Now it's my turn."

The waiter returned with the lemonades. He set them on the table without a word this time and disappeared. I wondered if he could feel the tension as strongly as I could.

"Fine," she said, looking dissatisfied. "But I'm not promising anything."

"Okay…" I started with the easy one. "So what brings you to Port Angeles tonight?"

She looked down, folding her hands carefully on the empty table in front of her. She glanced up at me from under the thick lashes, and there was a hint of a smile on her face. About time.

"Next," she said.

"Oh, come on!"

She shrugged. "Next?"

I looked down, pretending to look frustrated. Actually, she'd just told me everything I needed to know. I unrolled my silverware, picked up my fork and knife, and carefully cut the chicken parmigiana before putting a piece in my mouth. It was delicious. I swallowed and took a sip of my lemonade before I looked up.

"Doesn't this dish seem at least a little appetizing to you? I know we've had this conversation before, but you really need to start eating a little more. I worry about you sometimes."

Edythe laughed. "I'm the last person you should be worried about. Trust me."

"See? I finally got you to laugh." I smiled. "I'm just trying to get you to loosen up. It almost seems like you're the one who had the near-death experience."

"How can you not take this seriously?" She stared at me in disbelief.

I shrugged. "It's my coping mechanism. It's not as if I haven't been in life-threatening situations before." I paused for a moment. "Alright. I have another question."

"Ok."

"So how was my French and Italian? It's been awhile since I've practiced, but I think I got it right."

"Yes, you did, though your French accent wasn't very good." She gave me a disapproving look. "You should apologize to him. Even if he doesn't know what you told him, he knows it wasn't exactly a compliment."

"Not a chance. It'll help him be a better waiter."

"That was my last question, by the way," I added, almost as an afterthought.

Her mouth fell open. "You can't be serious."

"I can. I just choose not to sometimes."

"You don't –" she struggled to get the words out – "want to know how I found you?"

I smiled. "I already do."

"How – "

"It's absolutely ridiculous, but it's the only explanation that fits with my observations. You're a telepath. But you can't read my mind, can you?"

She just stared at me, as if _I_ was the weird one. Then she smiled as well. "I should have known you would figure it out on your own."

"Well, you showing up right before that guy shot me gave me the final piece of the puzzle. So it wasn't really on my own; you helped too, and just in time. I'm guessing you found me by reading the minds of those lowlifes, though there probably wasn't much to read." She smiled, and I continued. "It would also explain how you found out about my drug problem, as well as the fact that I'd been with Allen and Jeremy."

We were both silent for a moment.

"I guess that's the second time you saved my life. I don't know how I'll ever thank you."

She angled her face down, her hair falling across her cheeks, and I could barely hear her response.

"Not the second time," she said. "It's not twice you've almost died, it's three times. The first time I saved you … it was from myself."

As clearly as if I were back in my first Biology class, I could see Edythe's murderous black glare, and see my own defiant expression reflected in her eyes. If only I'd known what she was capable of.

"You remember?" she asked. She stared at me now, her perfect face serious. "You understand?"

"Yes."

She waited for more, for another reaction. When I didn't say anything, her eyebrows pulled together.

"You can leave, you know," she told me. "Your friends are still at the movie."

"I'm not a big fan of romantic comedies," I replied casually.

She was suddenly irritated. "Is everything a joke to you? Don't you realize how dangerous I am?"

"You just saved my life, then brought me to a restaurant. So forgive me for not considering you particularly dangerous. I think if you really wanted to kill me, you would have already done it."

She shook her head in disgust. "Every moment I'm with you I'm putting your life at risk."

I laughed bitterly. "Edythe, my life's been at risk ever since I was ten. I think I can handle being around you."

"You really are insane." She took a deep breath. "Are you going to eat anything else?"

I blinked at my food. "No, I'm finished."

"Do you want to go home now?"

I paused. "I'm not in any hurry."

She frowned; apparently my answer bothered her.

The waiter showed up again.

"How are you do – " he started to ask.

She cut him off. "We're finished, thank you very much, that ought to cover it, no change, thanks."

She was already out of her seat.

I fumbled for my wallet. "At least let me pay for – "

"My treat, Beau."

"But – "

"Try not to get caught up in antiquated gender roles." She winked and walked away.

It's called going Dutch, I thought. I noticed she'd left the stunned waiter with a hundred-dollar bill on the table in front of him.

"Wait – " I rushed to follow. Oh, who am I kidding? I barely even have enough money to buy my own lunch at school.

I passed her, hurrying again to get the door. While I considered myself a modern man, I felt that opening the door for her was an acceptable token of my appreciation. The real question was, would I still do it even if she hadn't paid?

She gave me a strange look when I held the door open, apparently touched by the gesture but also annoyed by it at the same time.

Embarrassed, I walked to the passenger side of the car. I'd never done that for any girl before, but I had the feeling it wouldn't be the last time. Once I was inside, she looked pointedly at my seat belt until I put it on again. I wondered for a second if she was some kind of safety-first absolutist – until I noticed that she hadn't bothered with hers, and we were racing off into the light traffic without a hint of caution on her part.

"Now," she said with a grim smile, "it's your turn."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Author's note – I apologize for not updating earlier, but I couldn't retrieve part of the chapter, so I had to start over. I've kind of been doing this already, but now I'm making it official: I'll have a new chapter every Saturday, and occasionally on Wednesday if possible. And, as always, thanks to everyone who's read/reviewed/favorited my story!

Update - Until very recently, I thought I'd been making corrections to various chapters (spelling, grammar, changes in dialogue, etc.) but eventually realized that I'd just been making these changes to the files under Document Manager, and not the story everyone else would be reading. That's been fixed, and as a bonus, I also resubmitted this chapter after making several corrections. The story should be more consistent now; I'd encourage you all to go back and read the previous chapters, if you have nothing else to do :).

I'm going out for a bite to drink – Count Dracula

"Can I ask one more question?" I asked as she accelerated down the quiet street.

I was in no hurry to answer hers.

She shook her head. "You have much more to talk about."

"It's not really a question," I argued. "Merely a clarification of something we've already discussed." Actually it was a question (several actually), but I was determined to know.

She rolled her eyes. "Make it quick."

"Can you read anyone's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family do the same thing? And can you look at people's memories, or only their thoughts?"

"Merely a clarification?" Edythe muttered in sardonic amusement. I turned away, my cheeks reddening, but did not regret waiting until now to ask. It was easier to talk about it here, in the dark car. The streetlights were behind us already, and in the low gleam from the dashboard, all of the bizarre events of today seemed just a little more plausible.

It seemed as if she felt the same sense of non-reality, like normality was on hold for as long as we were in this space together. Her voice was casual as she answered.

"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's … 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear him. But still, no more than a few miles." She paused thoughtfully. "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum – a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what he's thinking becomes clear. And no, I can't look at a person's memories, unless he's thinking about them at that moment."

"Most of the time I tune it all out – it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal" – she frowned as she said the word – "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."

"Why do you think you can't hear me?" I asked curiously.

She stared at me, eyes seeming to bore right through mine, with that frustrated look I knew well. I realized now that every time she'd looked at me this way, she must have been trying to hear my thoughts, and failing. Her expression relaxed as she gave up.

"I don't know," she murmured. "Maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM. Or maybe you're an alien." She grinned at me, suddenly amused. "It would explain a lot."

"Look who's talking. I'm not the one who can read minds." I shook my head. "I still don't understand how any of this is possible. But I'm sure there's other people out their who's minds you can't read. I can't be _that_ special."

"Maybe. But enough about me. I have many questions for _you,_ and I hope you'll answer all of them." She eyed me inquisitively.

I looked away from her face, trying to decide what I would say next, and my eyes wandered across the dashboard … and stopped at the speedometer.

"May I ask why you're driving at almost 180 kilometers per hour? It's rather unnecessary, don't you think?"

"I always drive like this." She turned to flash a smile at me. "And what do you have against English units? Would it hurt too much to use miles?"

"It's a cumbersome and idiotic system of measurement. But not as idiotic as driving at twice the speed limit."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't slow down. "We're not going to crash."

I didn't ask how she was so sure, because, oddly enough, I didn't particularly care. In fact, I actually found it thrilling.

"What's the fastest you've ever gone?" I asked.

"You don't want to know," she replied. She then gave me an exasperated look. "Will you stop prevaricating? You've asked enough questions already."

I sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"Why did you go to Seattle without me?"

I scanned her face, searching for any sign of anger or resentment, but found only curiosity. In retrospect, it was such an idiotic thing to do, but she deserved to know the truth. "The day after we all went to La Push, I had a dream – a nightmare, really. You were in it, but you were … different. Dangerous, but I couldn't get away. I didn't know if it was because of the heroin, but I was afraid of what might happen if I went to Seattle with you."

I couldn't look at her anymore. "It was such a stupid thing to do. I'm really sorry."

"No." Her eyes were on the road now. "It's probably the smartest thing you've done lately. What _wa_ s stupid was going to Seattle in the first place. Did you really go just so you could make a bomb and set it off to impress your classmates?"

"More or less." One of them must have told her about it; either that or she scanned their little minds. "I've always been fascinated by explosions, and I took the chance to give them a little chemistry lesson as well."

She shook her head. "One day you're going to blow yourself up."

I smiled mischievously.

"So," she continued, "you said that in the dream I looked dangerous. Could you be a little more specific?"

I didn't answer.

"Hello?"

"I'd rather not answer that, if you don't mind."

She sighed. "Fine. You said it happened after visiting La Push. Was there anything you experienced there that scared or upset you?"

I hesitated. Did she know already? Was she just asking me this because she wanted to hear me say it? Suddenly I wished I were somewhere else. Anywhere else. But it was too late for that. There would be no going back.

"I ran into an old family friend," I began. "Julie Black. Her mom, Bonnie, and my father have been close since before I was born."

She still looked confused.

"Bonnie's one of the Quileute leaders … "

Her confused expression froze in place. It was as if all of the planes of her face had suddenly hardened into ice. She was even more beautiful now, a goddess in the light of the dashboard dials. She didn't look very human, though. It was unnerving.

She stayed frozen, so I felt compelled to explain the rest.

"There was this Quileute woman on the beach – Sam Black. That oaf Logan made a comment about you – trying to make fun of me. And Sam said that your family didn't come to the reservation, but her tone implied something else. Julie seemed to know what Sam was talking about, and once we were alone she told me … about the old Quileute legends."

I was surprised when she spoke – her face was so still, and her lips barely moved.

"And what were those legends? What did Jules Black tell you I was?"

Again I was silent.

"What is it?"

"I'm not going to say it." I turned away.

"It's not my favorite word, wither. Not saying it doesn't make it go away, though. Sometimes … I think not saying it makes it more powerful."

I didn't care. None of this made any sense. Maybe all of this was a dream. It had to be; the alternative was too ludicrous to think about.

"Say it, Beau," she insisted.

"Ho-quaht," I whispered, hoping I pronounced it correctly. "It means 'white girl' in Quileute."

I couldn't help it; I laughed. Her expression was absolutely priceless.

"Alright, I'm kidding. It's actually a term used to refer to any non-Indian –"

"You think this is funny?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"I wish." I wasn't laughing anymore. I'd hoped that a bit of humor would defuse the tension, but it just made things worse. I should have known better, especially since it had been at her expense.

"Say it, Beau," she repeated.

"Why should I?"

"Say it!"

"Vampire! " I said furiously, practically spitting the word out. "She said you're a vampire. There, I said it. Are you happy?" My hands were shaking with rage.

She seemed stunned by my reaction. "Are you OK?" she asked.

"No," I replied, irritated that she would even ask. "Do you have any idea what this means?"

"I think I do, actually, seeing as I'm – "

"That's not what I meant. My God – if vampires are real, then what else? Are there witches and werewolves too? What about dragons? Hell, why not every fictional creature ever mentioned or written about?"

She gave me a sly smile. "Well, I don't know about dragons, but – "

"You can't be serious. Are you actually telling me there are other mythical creatures out there?" No, this couldn't be real. I had to be dreaming.

We drove in silence for another minute, and the word vampire seemed to get bigger and bigger inside the car. I couldn't ignore it no matter how much I tried. I closed my eyes and opened them again, hoping I'd wake up, but it was of no use.

She spoke again. "This really wasn't how I thought you'd react."

"Really? And how did you expect me to react? Did you think I would just calmly accept it and move on? Wait, let me guess: you thought I'd be terrified of you and that I'd try to run away?" I was calmer now, but only slightly.

She smiled. "Would it be too much to ask for just a little apprehension? I'm the one who's supposed to be dangerous here, not you."

"Oh, I'm sorry for not being scared." The anger suddenly disappeared as quickly as it had come. "I'm sorry," I said, this time genuinely. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"It's OK," she replied gently. "I understand it's a lot to take in."

"It's just – all my life I thought I understood how the world worked. Sure, there would always be more to learn, but the 'rules' seemed clear. I never put any stock in superstition or ghost stories or anything that was presented without proof. Even twelve years ago I would've scoffed at anyone who suggested that vampires were real. And yet here we are. I guess I don't really understand anything after all."

"That's not true. Just because there are things out there you didn't know about doesn't mean that everything you know – and you know a great deal, trust me– suddenly doesn't matter anymore. The rules don't change, but you might have to interpret them a little differently."

We were silent again.

"So if you really are a vampire" – I cringed as the word came out – "how do you come outside in the daytime?"

She laughed. "Myth."

The sound of her laughter was warm and relaxing. I suddenly smiled in spite of myself.

"So the sun doesn't hurt you?"

"Not really," she said.

"No sleeping in coffins either?" Somehow I knew what the answer would be.

"Nope." She hesitated for a moment, and then added softly, "I can't sleep."

It took me a minute to absorb that. "At all?"

"Never, she murmured. She turned to look at me with a wistful expression. I held her gaze, my eyes trapped in her golden stare. After a few seconds, I'd completely lost my train of thought.

Suddenly she turned away, her eyes narrowing again. "You haven't asked me the most important question yet."

"You mean if you drink blood? Well I'd be tempted to dismiss that as a myth as well, but somehow I think that would be too good to be true. Otherwise," I said smiling, "you couldn't even call yourself a vampire. But Julie did say that your family hunted animals rather than humans. I guess that means we're supposed to be safe."

"Don't let that make you complacent, though," she said warningly. "We're still dangerous."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what she meant. "You don't _look_ dangerous, though."

"Looks can be deceiving." Her voice became heavier and slower. " We try. We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make … mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."

I thought about that for a moment. "What are the chances that something bad will happen as a result?"

"Very high," she replied sadly.

I watched the headlights twist with the curves of the road. They moved too fast; it looked more like a video game than real life. I was aware of the time slipping by so quickly, like the black road underneath us, and I was suddenly afraid that I would never have another chance to be with her like this again. What she was saying sounded like … goodbye. And while I understood why, I realized I couldn't waste one minute I had with her.

"Tell me more." It didn't really matter what she said; I just wanted to listen to her voice.

She looked at me quickly, seemingly startled by the change in my tone. "What more do you want to know?"

"How hard is it to maintain your … diet?" It was the first question I could think of.

"That depends. Our diet isn't exactly natural; at least, that's what everyone keeps telling us. We call ourselves vegetarians – ironic, I know. Animal blood doesn't completely satiate the thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time." Her tone darkened. "Sometimes it can become very difficult."

"Is it very difficult for you now?" I asked.

She sighed. "Yes."

"But you're not hungry now," I said – stating, not asking.

"Why do you think that?"

"Your eyes. I have a theory about that, which I hope you'll either prove or disprove. The darker the color of your eyes the hungrier you are. Judging by the color I'd say you ate fairly recently. Unless you really do wear contacts, in which case you've been screwing with me all along."

She laughed. "Nothing gets past you. And no, I don't wear contacts."

"So, I'm curious," I said, eager to changing the subject. " Just how strong are you?"

She glanced at me from the side of her eye. "Strong enough."

"Could you lift, say, two thousand kilograms?"

She looked a little thrown off by my enthusiasm. "If I needed to. But I'm not really into feats of strength. They just make Eleanor competitive, and I'll never be that strong."

"How strong?"

"Honestly, if she wanted to, I think she could lift a mountain over her head. But I'd never say that around her, because then she would have to try." She laughed again, and it was a relaxed, affectionate sound.

"Were you hunting this weekend with Eleanor?" I asked when it was quiet again.

"Yes. It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty." She paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to say something. "I haven't been completely honest with you. I didn't come back on Sunday in time for the trip to Seattle." She looked at me apologetically. "I decided we were both better off not risking it. I guess now it's my turn to ask for forgiveness."

"Then that makes us even." I wasn't angry or upset; part of me had known somehow that she wouldn't show up. "So when did you come back?"

"Sunday afternoon." Her eyes were gentle, but intense, and they made it hard to breathe normally. "I was so anxious being away from you. I wasn't joking when I asked you not to get into trouble. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. It was a very long three days. I really got on Eleanor's nerves." She pursed her lips and turned away. "But I could never have imagined what you'd gotten yourself into."

"Then why weren't you at school?" I narrowed my eyes, wondering if I might finally get some answers as to why she missed classes so often.

"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the sunlight – at least, not where anyone can see."

"Why?"

"I'll show you sometime," she promised.

I thought about it for a moment. "Is that why you've missed school so often?"

"In part." She groaned. "Beau, we can't do this anymore. I'll end up hurting you. You'll be lucky to get out alive."

I smiled. "You haven't hurt me yet."

"That doesn't mean I won't," she replied in a scolding tone. "What would McKayla think if she saw us here?"

McKayla. I hadn't thought about her at all, after everything that had happened. Suddenly it dawned on me; Edythe had been there, in the woods, when I set off the bomb. She'd seen us kissing. It was so obvious now.

"You're right," I said quietly. "She doesn't deserve what I'm doing to her."

"What _we'r_ e doing," she corrected. "Give her a chance. I know you can be happy together. _She_ certainly isn't a threat to you."

I was silent for a moment. Maybe Edythe was right. It was almost unfair to compare her with McKayla; Edythe was spectacular in every way. McKayla, on the other hand, was just an ordinary girl in love. But maybe that was enough.

The darkness slipped by us in silence. I realized the car was slowing, and even in the dark I recognized the landmarks. We were passing into the boundaries of Forks. I glanced at my watch. It had only taken about fifteen minutes.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Do you want to?" she whispered.

"Yes," I admitted, hoping I could at least get that much.

She closed her eyes. The car didn't deviate so much as half an inch from the center of the lane.

"Then I'll be there," she finally said. "I do have a paper to turn in."

She looked at me then, and her face was calmer, but her eyes were troubled.

We suddenly in front of Charlie's house. The lights were on, my truck in its place, everything completely normal. It was bizarre, and I wondered once again if after waking up I would find that everything that had happened today had been a dream. If so, I wasn't sure I wanted it to end.

I stared into her eyes, and I felt their strange, magnetic pull again. I didn't fight it this time, instead allowing myself to be pulled in. Her face was so perfect, so exquisite, it almost hurt to look at it, yet I couldn't bear to look away. It didn't matter to me now that she was a vampire; I only wanted to feel her lips pressed against mine–

Suddenly her left hand was there, palm forward, an inch from my face, warning me back, and she was cringing against the car door, her eyes wide and frightened and her teeth clenched together.

I jerked away from her.

"Sorry!" I would never stop apologizing to her, it seemed.

She stared at me for a long moment, holding her breath. After a long moment, she relaxed slightly.

"You have to be more careful than that, Beau," she said finally in a dull voice.

It would be easier if she weren't so irresistible. I turned away reluctantly and reached for the door handle.

"Beau?"

"Yes?" I turned back to her, wondering how I would manage to stay away from her if she didn't even seem to want me to.

"Will you promise me something?"

"Possibly," I replied nonchalantly. "There is a finite but nonzero probability that I will say no."

She made an exasperated sound. "I'm serious. Don't go into the woods alone. Especially if all you plan to do is set off explosives, which is something you shouldn't be doing in the first place."

I stared at her in blank confusion. "Why?"

She frowned, and her eyes were tight as she stared past me out the window.

"I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at that. And as for the explosives, I think that's fairly self-explanatory. Take your own advice, or the Department of Homeland Security will be the least of your problems."

The sudden bleakness in her voice made me shiver. "I'll stay out of the woods." That much, I could do. I refused to stop making explosives, however, and no hypnotic gaze or dimpled smile would convince me otherwise.

She sighed, apparently realizing I would not keep her second request. "I'll see you tomorrow, Beau."

I opened the door unwillingly and started to climb out.

"Beau?"

I'd never tire of hearing her voice. I turned and ducked back, and she was leaning toward me, her pale angelic face just inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.

"Sleep well," she said. Her breath blew into my face – it was the same compelling scent that permeated her car, but in a more concentrated form. I blinked, temporarily stunned. She leaned away.

I shook my head, trying to clear my scrambled thoughts, and backed out of the car, having to use the frame for balance. I thought she might have laughed, but the sound was too quiet for me to be sure.

She waited until I reached the front door, and then her engine quietly revved. I turned to watch the silver car disappear around the corner. Suddenly I remembered that I still had her scarf around my neck. I carefully unwrapped it and made a mental note to give it back to her tomorrow. Overcome by temptation, I placed the scarf under my nose and inhaled her scent. Maybe I'd keep it instead.

I reached for the key automatically and unlocked the front door.

"Beau?" my dad called from the living room.

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." I locked the door and then went to find him. He was on his favorite couch, a baseball game on the TV.

"Movie over so early?"

"It wasn't that long," I lied. "We were actually a little late, but the first twenty minutes are previews anyway."

"What's that you've got there?" He looked at the scarf I was holding.

"I borrowed it from McKayla. She kept insisting, and it did get cold. Colder than Phoenix anyway, though I guess that's not saying much." I gave him a lopsided smile. Why was it so easy for me to lie?

"I think any place is colder than Phoenix," he said jokingly.

"Well, it's been a long day." He wouldn't believe how long. "I think I'm going to sleep early."

"'Night, kid."

"Good night."

I walked up the stairs slowly in a kind of stupor. The pain from my injuries still hadn't gone away, but more importantly, I needed time alone to think. I took a shower, wincing when the hot water poured onto my chest where that bastard had punched me. I brushed my teeth; my jaw was still a bit sore, but it wasn't as bad as I'd initially thought.

I got dressed and finally climbed into bed. I wrapped my quilt tightly around me and fought through a couple of small shudders.

My mind swirled with images and impressions, some of which I wished I could see more clearly, and others which I wanted desperately to forget. The road whipping by, the dim yellow light at the restaurant glinting in her metallic hair, the shape of her lips when she smiled … when she frowned … the look on Jeremy's face when he saw her, the headlights screaming toward me, Ryan pointing the gun at my face. My bed shook under me as I shivered again. The trauma of today was finally catching up to me.

No, there were too many things I wanted to remember to waste time with the unpleasantness. I grabbed the scarf, which I'd placed on the drawer beside my bed, and breathed in the wonderful scent again. Almost immediately, my body relaxed, the tremors stilling. I pictured her face in my head – every angle, every expression, every mood.

I groaned. When did this happen? I'd never felt this way about any girl in my life, not even McKayla. And it wouldn't even matter so much if she weren't a vampire. But I couldn't deny that part of her saw me as prey, and she could easily kill me if she were so inclined. I had to stay away from her. But at the same time, I felt it was already too late.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I still wasn't entirely sure yesterday hadn't been a dream.

It all seemed so unreal. No, it _was_ unreal. There had to be a logical explanation for everything that was happening, one which didn't involve the supernatural. Asking Edythe was out of the question, but maybe there was another way…

It was foggy and dark outside my window, which meant she would most likely keep her promise. I dressed in layers, remembering I didn't have my jacket and hoping I wouldn't be thoroughly soaked before I found it again. I also remembered to pack her scarf – well, her brother's "borrowed" scarf. Even if I didn't return it, I might need it later.

When I got downstairs, Charlie was already gone. I glanced at my watch; it was later than I thought. After a quick breakfast of milk and a granola bar (not exactly the most important meal of the day, at least for me), I hurried out the door.

I estimated the temperature to be slightly above the freezing point. I didn't know how long it would take me to acclimate to this weather; after living in the superheated wasteland that was Phoenix, Forks felt like the Artic. I couldn't wait to get the heat going on in my truck.

The fog was so thick I was a few feet down the driveway before I realized there was another car in it: a familiar silver car. My heart suddenly skipped a beat; could it be her?

The passenger window was down, and she was leaning toward me, amused by my dumbstruck look.

"Would you like a ride to school?" she asked.

Though she was smiling, I detected a note of uncertainty in her voice. I realized she was testing me, trying to see if I'd stay away from her. I thought about it for a brief moment.

"Yeah, thanks," I said casually. Aside from not really wanting to stay away from her, I thought it might lead me closer to finding out the truth. As I ducked into the warm car, I noticed a light tan jacket slung over the headrest of the passenger seat.

"Is this your jacket?" I asked politely.

"Actually, it belongs to Royal. I didn't want you to catch a cold or something."

I set the jacket carefully on the backseat. She certainly didn't seem to mind stealing (or borrowing, to use her preferred euphemism) her brothers' belongings. I suddenly remembered the look on her siblings' faces, so unconcerned for Edythe. Royal's face stood out vividly; he had been absolutely furious.

That, I thought, could be a problem.

I pulled the scarf from my bag and laid it on top of the jacket

"That won't be necessary. But I appreciate the concern."

She laughed, though I wasn't sure why. Regardless, I'd grown to like the sound very much.

She drove through the foggy streets, always unnecessarily fast, barely looking at the road. She wasn't wearing a jacket, either, just a pale lavender sweater with the sleeves pushed up. The sweater hugged her body, and I tried not to stare. Her hair was messily wound up into a twist on the back of her head – and the way it exposed the slender column of her neck was also distracting.

I quickly averted my gaze, hoping she hadn't noticed. Though I still wasn't entirely convinced that everything that had transpired yesterday hadn't been a product of my imagination, part of me felt it wise to play it safe.

"No Twenty Questions today?" she asked me.

"Closer to forty, actually, though I can't remember the exact number. I'm guessing that annoyed you."

"Not… it was just… confusing.

I was surprised she felt that way. "Why?"

"Your reactions – I don't understand them."

"My reactions?"

She glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, Beau. When someone tells you they drink blood, you're supposed to be afraid, not angry. Make a cross with your fingers, throw holy water, run away screaming, that sort of thing."

I smiled. "I guess I won't be inviting you to church, then."

Her mouth dropped. "You go to church?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why does that surprise you? Most Americans consider themselves Christians. Many of them don't go to Mass, at least on a regular basis, but some do. Like me."

She shook her head. "You're so full of contradictions."

I leaned back against my seat, trying to relax.

"So," I began, "where's the rest of your family?"

It was odd, now that I thought about it, that the car was empty except for the two of us. Though that was hardly the most pressing issue on my mind, I was simply trying to make conversation.

Then I realized she was already pulling into the school parking lot.

"They took Royal's car." She gestured to a glossy red convertible with the top up as she swerved into the spot next to it. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. But then why does he even bother riding with you?"

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We _try_ to blend in."

I chuckled as I opened the car door. "I think there's plenty of room for improvement in that area."

She rolled her eyes but didn't say anything.

I wasn't late anymore, thanks to her lunatic driving. "I just have to ask, did you ever take a course in defensive driving?"

"No," she replied, amused. "I've never been in an accident, or even been pulled over."

"Still breaking the law, though. But let me guess, you use your little ability to detect anyone nearby, including cops."

She smiled. "Right you are."

She met me at the front of the car, staying very close to my side as we walked onto campus. I wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch her hand, to put my arm around her shoulders, but something told me that wasn't a good idea.

"Why do you even have cars like that?" I asked. "If you're looking for privacy, I'm sure you could find a used car somewhere."

"It's an indulgence," she admitted with a little half-smile. "We all like to drive fast."

"Really?" This was interesting. "But you said you were the only one with the ability to – well, you know." I still felt rather uncomfortable actually saying it. "So how do they avoid ever getting pulled over?"

She grinned. "Did I ever say that?"

It hit me then (no pun intended). "No." I couldn't help smirking, trying to imagine Royal getting a speeding ticket.

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Jeremy was waiting with his eyes popping out again. Over his arm was my jacket.

"Hey, Jeremy," I called when we were a few meters away. "Thanks for bringing that."

He handed me the jacket without speaking; understandable, considering how I'd treated him yesterday.

"Good morning, Jeremy," Edythe said politely. I could tell she wasn't trying to overwhelm him, but even her smallest smile was hard to take in stride.

"Er … hi." Jeremy shifted his wide eyes to me, trying to reorder his scrambled brains. "Guess I'll see you in Trig. There was some stuff I thought you could help me out with."

"Sure. See you then."

He walked away, pausing to glance at us twice.

"What are you going to tell him?" she murmured.

"Hmm?" I looked at her, then at Jeremy's back. "About what?" Then it dawned on me. "You mean about what's going on in his little mind?"

Her mouth pulled to one side. "I don't know if it's entirely ethical for me to tell you that …"

"Don't worry; you don't have to. I can't say I really care that much, but I can already guess what he's thinking.

"Ok, then." She grinned a mischievous smile.

"Let me guess. He was astonished that a girl like you would take someone like me to dinner, especially since I'm technically dating McKayla. Also, he's extremely interested in the – ahem – details of what might have happened afterwards. Am I close?"

"Right on, as usual." She was still grinning. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you could read minds too."

"People like Jeremy aren't complicated. It's almost impossible for him to hide what he's thinking. You don't need to be telepathic to figure it out."

"No," she replied coyly. "You just need an I.Q. of about 193."

"Just so you know, I've never taken an I.Q. test. I'm not entirely sure I even believe in those things."

"Neither did Einstein. Alright, genius, see you later." She brandished her dimples before walking away.

Suddenly I realized we were standing right outside the English classroom. Three people had paused by the doorway, staring at me with varying shades of surprise and awe. I ignored them and walked into the room. I pulled out one of my favorite books, _Philosophical Investigations_ by Ludwig Wittgenstein (I'd yet to find anyone who could decipher that man's arguments) and started reading.

"Morning, Beau."

McKayla was already in her normal seat. Her greeting wasn't as enthusiastic as I was used to. That was an understatement, in fact; she looked quite upset. Oh, great.

"Hey, McKayla. How've you been?"

"Fine. How was the movie last night?"

"Well, I didn't actually see it. I got lost and …"

"Yeah, I heard," she said.

Dammit. I'd hoped this wouldn't happen. "Who told you?"

"Does it matter?" She sighed. "Jeremy did." Her expression was forlorn. "Why'd you do it, Beau? Why go out with her?"

I should've known that idiot would mess things up. "It wasn't a date, really. It's just – I'm not really into romantic comedies, that's all. I know what you're thinking, but I want you to know Edythe's just a friend." I gave her what I hoped was a sincere look. "I promise you nothing else happened. And nothing _will_ happen between her and me."

After what seemed like an hour, she finally smiled at me. "Ok. I believe you. Just don't do it again."

"I won't." Just then, Ms. Mason finally got up and asked us to open our books.

I hoped that settled things between us. Now to handle Jeremy…

The sky was like lead as I walked to Trig, dark gray and heavy. And just as damaging to the psyche, I thought.

When I saw Jeremy sitting by an empty desk in the back row, watching the door, waiting for me, I briefly wondered whether I should punch him or not, but decided against it; he wasn't worth it. Though there were other seats available, I sat next to him. He didn't keep me waiting.

"Dang, son," he said. "Who knew you had that kind of game? Going out with McKayla and Edythe?

I gave him a scathing look. "You couldn't keep your mouth shut? Why'd you tell her about last night?

He threw his hands up. "Relax, man. I just told her you two went to eat together. I never said you actually went out."

My eyes narrowed. "It's not exactly a secret that you like McKayla. But I'm warning you: if we break up because of you, I will make you regret it."

I saw a flash of fear in his eyes. "Ok. Look, I'm sorry, man. It won't happen again." He suddenly grinned. "So, did anything happen between you and Edythe? I swear to God I won't tell anyone."

"Sorry to disappoint you. I would never do that to McKayla. But I guess that gives you a chance. Maybe if you step up your game, you'll have a chance with Edythe." Now _that_ I'd love to see.

He stared at me, apparently trying to decide whether I was telling the truth or was trying to hide something from McKayla and didn't trust him with a secret.

I decided to ignore him. Let him think whatever he wanted. I turned to face the teacher, but he continued to look at me suspiciously until Ms. Varner noticed and called on him for the answer. He started flipping spastically through his book, trying to figure out what she'd asked him. I smiled inwardly; serves him right.

Jeremy walked ahead of me on the way to Spanish, but I didn't care; I wasn't in any hurry. We didn't speak again until the end of class when I began shoving my books into my backpack.

"Are you sitting with us at lunch?"

His face was suspicious again, and more guarded now.

"Of course."

He walked off without waiting for me, but then he did a litter stutter step and paused on the threshold of the classroom.

"Seriously, _what the hell_ ," Jeremy said loud enough that I could hear him – as did everyone else within a three-meter radius.

He glanced back at me, shook his head, then stalked away.

I was in a hurry to get out the door – to see what that was about – but so was everyone else. One by one, they all stopped to look back at me before exiting. By the time I got out, I didn't know what to expect.

But outside the door to my Spanish class, leaning against the wall – looking far more beautiful than anyone had a right to – Edythe was waiting for me. Her wide gold eyes looked amused, and the corners of her lips were right on the point of smiling. Her hair was still coiled up in that messy twist, and I had an off urge to reach down and pull the pins out of it, but that would never do.

"Hello, Beau."

I smiled. "! _Tanto_ _escándalo_ _por una gringa_! ¿ _Qué le pasa a este_ _güey_?"

She grinned. "Well, this _gringa_ would like to know if you're hungry."

I frowned. " I am, actually, but I was going to sit with McKayla. I thought we went over this."

She was still grinning. "She won't be going to lunch today."

"What?" Now this I was not expecting.

"You won't be seeing her again until tomorrow." Her smile suddenly faded. "She's waiting to see if – "

"I'll sit with you when she's not here," I finished. I underestimated that girl's paranoia, it seems.

She gazed at me searchingly. "Will you?"

I shrugged. "Why not? What could possibly go wrong?"

She turned toward the cafeteria, swinging her bag into place. "I'd rather not think about it," she muttered darkly.

If she were an ordinary girl I might've asked whether she needed help carrying the bag. But knowing what I did, the offer would probably just come across as insulting.

Once we were in the cafeteria, I followed her to the food line. I couldn't help staring at the back corner of the cafeteria the way I did every day. Her family was all present and accounted for, paying attention only to each other. They either didn't notice Edythe with me, or they didn't care. If it was the latter, the feeling was mutual.

Just then Archie looked up and smiled across the room at me. I couldn't help smiling back, though I was more than a little puzzled. I glanced down to see if he'd actually meant the smile for Edythe. She was aware of him, but she wasn't responding in kind. She looked rather angry, in fact. My eyes cut back and forth between the two of them as they engaged in a silent conversation. First, Archie smiled more widely, showing off teeth so white they were bright even across the length of the room. Edythe raised her eyebrows in a sort of challenge, her upper lip curling back very slightly. He rolled his eyes and held up his hands in mock surrender. Edythe turned her back to him and moved forward in the line. She grabbed a tray and started loading it up.

"He can be really annoying sometimes," she said in a low voice.

"Archie?" I asked. "Why? What did he do?"

"Nothing important," she said dismissively.

I glanced back at him; he was laughing now. Though he wasn't looking at us, I thought he might be laughing at her. I was suddenly amused. Archie didn't appear to be entirely stable, but I was starting to like him.

I was paying so much attention to this little exchange that I didn't notice what she had on the tray till the lunch lady was ringing us up.

"That'll be $24.33," she said.

"What? There must be some mistake –" I looked down at the tray, and my stomach turned over (and not from the hunger).

Edythe was already paying, and then gliding off toward the table where we'd sat together last week.

"Hey," I hissed, jogging a few steps to catch up with her. "I can't eat all of that."

"Half is for me, of course."

She sat down and pushed the overflowing tray to the center of the table.

I raised my eyebrows. "Really."

"Take whatever you want."

I sank into the seat across from her. At the other end of the long table, a group of seniors watched her with wide eyes.

"You don't feel bad about all the food going to waste?" I asked solemnly. "Think of all the starving children around the world who would beg for the food I'll be throwing away."

I stared at her accusingly. She looked away, a guilty look in her amber eyes.

"I apologize for sounding ungrateful, but there's people out there who need it far more than I do."

"You're right," she said heavily. "But there's nothing we can do for those people right now. The best thing to do," she added with a smile, "is to make sure as little of that food goes to waste as possible."

I took a bite from the pizza and swallowed. " Is it physically impossible for you to eat food?"

"Not impossible, just very unpleasant. I'd imagine it would be like someone eating dirt."

Interesting. I glanced at the pizza, then at her. "Then how does your digestive system work exactly? You don't eat or drink anything besides blood." I didn't know if I'd ever get used to saying that. "And more importantly, how do you derive that much energy just from drinking blood? You must have an insanely efficient metabolism."

Edythe seemed taken aback by my relentless questioning. "I honestly don't know, Beau. All I know is there are some things that can't be understood by your method of thinking. It's possible they can't be explained at all."

I thought about that as I continued eating. What kind of method of thinking would it take to understand everything, then? Was it possible that some things were truly incomprehensible? Maybe we simply weren't evolved enough yet to comprehend the mysteries of the universe. In the meantime, Edythe waited, watching me with the intense little scowl that I knew meant she was trying to get inside my head. When I took another bite of the pizza without speaking, she blew an angry breath out of her nose.

"I truly hate it when you do that."

I took a second to swallow. "I'm sorry? Oh, right, you mean not tell you everything going on in my mind."

I knew she wanted to smile, but she didn't give in. "Precisely."

"I don't know what to say. All I know is that your very existence has forced me to radically reorient the way I look at the world. Maybe science will eventually answer all of our questions, and maybe it won't. But I'll never give up looking for answers, no matter what happens."

She half-smiled at me. "That's so like you. But I'm compelled to warn you: you might not like what you find."

Hesitantly, she stretched her arm across the table toward me, leaving her hand in easy reach.

I covered it with mine. Suddenly, finding all of the answers didn't seem so important after all.

She smiled, but then she winced.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, pulling away.

"It's not you," she objected. "Here."

As carefully as if my hand were blown from the thinnest glass, she rested her fingers on my palm. Copying her caution, I folded my hand gently around them.

"What happened?" I asked, half-whispering.

"Many different reactions." Her forehead wrinkled again. "Royal has a particularly strident mental voice."

I glanced across the room and saw what, or rather who, she was talking about.

Royal was glaring intensely at Edythe's unprotected back, and Eleanor, across from him, was turned around and glowering at Edythe as well. When I looked, Royal shifted his furious eyes to me. I'd anticipated that this might become an issue.

I slowly pulled my hand away and stood up. "Give me a moment."

"Where are you going?" she asked warily, but I ignored her and walked toward the Cullen table. Eleanor stared at me, her mouth open in astonishment, though Royal continued to glare at me. Jessamine never turned.

"Howdy," I said, my hand outstretched. "I'm Beaufort Swan, but you can call me Beau. Pleasure to meet you."

Only Archie responded. "Hey," he replied, grinning, and shook my hand.

I directed my attention to Royal. "I've heard you're good at Physics. Do you think you could help me with a problem I've been having involving electrical currents and resistance?" I placed just the slightest emphasis on the word _resistance._

He didn't answer.

"Hello? I understand if you don't want to help, but could you at least –"

"Get lost."

I glanced at Archie. "I guess this isn't a good time –"

"No," Archie interrupted, grinning even more widely now. "This is a great time. You're right. My brother's an expert in Physics. Isn't that right, Roy?"

Royal glared murderously at Archie but didn't speak.

"Ok, then. So if a wire of resistance R was stretched uniformly until it was twice its original length, what would happen to its resistance?"

Archie looked expectantly at Royal.

"Stay away from her," Royal said, his voice seething.

"I'm sorry?"

"I know why you're here. I'll admit, you've got some nerve coming over to our table pretending everything's alright, but I'm telling you now; stay away from Edythe before things get worse."

"I haven't exactly been the one inviting her," I replied equably, matching his gaze. "And since when have you been the one to decide who she hangs around? You're not her father, last I checked."

He stood up. "You better watch your mouth, kid. You don't know who you're messing with."

"Sure I do. I've met people like you before." Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed many of the students in the cafeteria were turning to looking at us.

He finally smiled. "I doubt that."

"You shouldn't. Arrogant, entitled bastards like you aren't exactly rare, unfortunately. But if Edythe wants to stay away from me, I can assure you I won't go chasing after her."

His hands curled up into fists. "You better get the hell away from me."

Eleanor finally spoke. "Roy, calm down." She looked at me angrily. "If something happens, you're on your own."

"Don't worry. I'm just about done here." I began to turn back.

"Beau."

I turned back to look at Archie. He seemed to be the only one at the table who didn't seem to hate my guts. I smiled. "Yes?"

"If the length doubles, then the cross-sectional area is halved, because the volume of the wire remains the same. So the resistance would increase by a factor of four."

"Thanks," I said, and meant it.

"Don't mention it." He gave me a rueful smile.

I went back to sit with Edythe. She looked as if she wanted to tear me apart, limb from limb, then set my remains on fire.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" she asked furiously. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wanted to show Royal that I wasn't afraid of him," I answered calmly. "And to make sure he knows that he's not in charge of your life." I smiled deviously. "Although I'll admit, it was deeply gratifying on a personal level. I'm not entirely sure why, but I've never liked Royal from the moment I first looked at him."

"Do you have any idea how close you were to getting into a fight? Do you seriously think you can win against him?" She was still fuming.

"No," I said. It was true; if the rest of her siblings were like her, then any one of them could kill me in a heartbeat. It was a calculated risk, but I thought it would pay off.

"You're unbelievable." She was trying to calm herself down, steadying her breathing, with limited success. "You're suicidal, that's what you are. Don't you ever do anything like that again."

I sighed. "Fine. But don't expect me to apologize to him."

She shook her head. "As long as you don't get anywhere near him. If you wanted him to hate you, then you've done a wonderful job."

"I thought he already hated me. I saw the way he was looking at me before."

"He didn't hate you," she said sadly. "He just didn't want me close to you. But you've really made him angry." She glared at me again. "Why do you have to be so reckless?"

"I don't know." I looked into her amber eyes, not really sure what I was looking for.

"You don't have anything to prove," she said.

"It's not that. I guess I just … " I trailed off, not knowing what to say. "Can we talk about something else?"

She sighed. "I'm not sure there's anything left to talk about. Beau, it's not safe to be around me, or anyone in my family. Especially now."

"And yet you've always been the one to approach me. You're always talking about how dangerous it is to be together, but you almost invariably make the first move." I wasn't upset with her, though. I knew I was equally guilty for accepting her advances.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just… I've never, in my life, seen anyone like you." She paused for a moment. " You don't know how utterly fascinating you are to me. Every time I think I have you figured out, you say or do something that completely throws me off. It's driven me crazy, not knowing what you'll do. I just can't stop thinking about you."

I didn't know what to make of that. "You really find me that interesting?"

She smiled. "Don't you? Wouldn't anyone?"

I looked away. "Not really. But I've gotten used to it. I'm usually alone. Who cares about the nerdy kid, right?."

Her eyes were full of sorrow. "I'm very sorry you feel that way."

I noticed the students were starting to leave. "Don't worry about me; I'll be fine. Live and let live, as they say. And thanks for the food." I rose from my chair. "I guess I'll see you later."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's note- Like Beau, I guess I'll never stop apologizing, in this case for being late. This will be by far the shortest chapter I'll have written, partly because it's a short chapter in the book, and partly because I wasn't going by the book (except for the end).

 _A man always finds it hard to realize he may have finally lost a woman's love, however badly he may have treated her._ – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

I decided I would take the rest of the day off. It wasn't exactly betraying Edythe; she'd skipped class plenty of times, and with even less of a motive. But as I walked out into the parking lot, I wondered: was I better off alone? Every time I became close to someone, it never ended well. I was almost tempted to believe that I was cursed. On the other hand, it was easy to make friends here, and I was certainly popular with the ladies. It might end differently here, after all.

I suddenly remembered that I'd come with Edythe. There was no way I'd be asking her for a ride home now, but that was fine; I could easily get a ride with someone else, hopefully Allen. In the meantime, I would have plenty of time to read with no distractions. That was what I needed; to immerse myself in a good book and forget about all of the nonsense that was happening. More importantly, I needed to find a way to stay away from Edythe, not because of her idiot brother, but because it was in our best interest.

As I walked through the parking lot, I recognized McKayla's suburban still parked in its usual spot. Evidently she was still here, which was interesting. I decided to take a closer look.

She was sitting in the driver's seat of her suburban, and as I got nearer I realized she was listening to the Beatles song _Don't let me down_. How appropriate, I thought. At least in her mind.

I kept my head low and crept around the passenger's side of the car until I was directly below her windshield, which was partly lowered.

"Boo."

She let out a shriek. "Beau! You scared me."

"That's the idea," I said, smiling.

She glanced around. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question. You never showed up for lunch."

She grinned. "The food here's not healthy, remember? Besides, I just felt like skipping class."

Right. "Same here. So you've got any plans for today?"

"No," she admitted, still grinning. "So how about dinner at my place, tonight?"

"Sure. I'll be needing a ride home, though," I admitted sheepishly. "It's so embarrassing coming to school in that truck."

She laughed. "Well, climb aboard, then."

McKayla drove at a leisurely pace, unlike Edythe, who seemed intent on breaking the sound barrier with her Volvo. We stopped at an ice cream parlor named A _nabel's Ice Cream_ about two kilometers from Charlie's house; I hadn't had time to eat desert at the school cafeteria, and McKayla hadn't eaten anything at all, as it turns out. I ordered an ice cream sundae, which McKayla insisted she'd pay for.

"Not a very healthy meal," I remarked, eyeing the banana split she'd ordered.

She shrugged. "It tastes better than anything in the cafeteria. Besides, I've always loved this place. It's never crowded, so I don't have to wait long. And it looks so adorably retro."

I looked around. The walls were beige in color and covered in pictures of people from the late 19th and 20th centuries, including a picture of the 1904 World's Fair in St. Louis, Missouri.

"Why is there a portrait of First Lady Dolly Madison?" I asked.

"She served ice cream at President James Madison's inaugural ball," McKayla explained. "She's closely associated with the early history of ice cream in the US." She raised her eyebrows. "You didn't know that?"

"Should I have?"

Her jaw dropped. "Finally! There's something I know that you didn't!"

I grinned. "Who would have thought?"

I had to admit, the ice cream was delicious. But try as I might, I still couldn't put Edythe out of my mind. Was she angry at me for skipping Biology? Or was she relieved that I was finally following her advice? What would Royal tell her the next time he saw her? I suddenly felt immensely guilty for what I'd done. She would have to deal with the fallout of what happened at the cafeteria, one way or another.

McKayla noticed my somber expression. "Is something wrong?"

Should I tell her? Edythe would know, but that might be for the best.

"You know Jeremy likes you, right?" I said, smirking.

She gave me an astonished look. "Really?"

"Why do you think he was the one who told you about last night? Allen was there too, but he never said anything."

She averted her gaze but didn't say anything. Suddenly I realized what she was hiding.

"Jeremy told you not to tell me that he snitched, didn't he?" By the look on her face, I knew I was right.

"So you're saying," she said slowly, "that he told me about it so we'd split up, giving him a chance with me?"

"Exactly."

She narrowed her eyes. "But that still doesn't explain why you went to dinner with Edythe. You hadn't planned to, or at least I hope you didn't. So what happened?"

I sighed. If I wanted to mend things with McKayla I'd have to tell her at least part of the truth.

"Not long after we got to Port Angeles," I began, "I went off on my own to go run an errand. I was going to meet up with Jeremy and Allen to see the movie, but I got lost." I hesitated.

She looked at me expectantly. "Go on."

"I ran into some punks in an alley. I got into a fight with one of them, but Edythe arrived before things got worse."

Her gaze turned sympathetic. "Did they hurt you?"

"Yeah, a bit. One of the guys punched me in the jaw." I turned my head back and showed her where Ryan had hit me. It was still bruised, though I was able to hide it fairly well. McKayla winced when she saw the injury.

"Like I said, things would've gotten worse if she hadn't shown up." I smiled. "You should've seen them running when they saw the Volvo." It was a lie, but what was I supposed to tell her? That a teenage girl had beaten up six armed people without even a scratch?

"After that, Edythe drove me to the theater. At that point, I wasn't really in the mood to watch the movie, for obvious reasons. Also, I didn't want Jeremy and Allen to get suspicious and start asking me what happened. So Edythe and I went to dinner. She offered to pay, and since I'm broke as hell, I couldn't refuse. After that, she took me home."

"So that's it?" McKayla asked. "Nothing else happened?"

"Nope. I was home before 8:00 p.m. You can even ask my dad if you like."

She stared at the table for a moment, thinking. "I'm sorry if I've come across as jealous or overbearing. But try to understand; Edythe looks spectacular." She broke into a smile. "You know I can't compete with her in that area. So when someone tells me you two went to dinner, my natural response is to panic. I didn't know what would happen after that." Her smile turned into a grin. "I hope I'm not giving you any ideas."

"Not at all," I replied, amused. "Edythe is… interesting. And you're right, she's absolutely stunning. But unlike most males, I'm not typically very interested in how women look. We get along well, but we only see each other as friends. There's never really been any romance. It's funny." I paused briefly and finished my ice cream. "Most guys would interpret that as a sign that I'm gay."

She laughed. "Well I don't suppose you'd be going to the dance with me if you were. Not that there's anything wrong with being gay."

I snickered. "Don't worry. Even if I was, none of the guys are that good-looking except for Royal, and he's just weird."

"Ditto." She laughed again. "I know it's embarrassing, but when they first moved here, I was obsessed with him. I even tried asking him out once, but he just looked at me like I was crazy and walked away."

I shook my head. "I've never liked him. He reminds me of the stuck-up rich kids back in Phoenix I hated so much." The feeling had been mutual. They'd always look down on anyone who didn't have expensive clothing, cell phones, and nice cars. It was the reason I'd initially felt antipathy toward the Cullen family.

"Sounds like you really miss you old home," she teased.

My mouth curled in disgust. "Don't even get me started."

"So how long are you going to stay here?" she asked.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "At first, I'd only planned to stay here until I finished high school, then hopefully get accepted to some Ivy League university. But I really like it here. The weather's nicer, and people are much friendlier. With a few exceptions," I added with a smile. "All I know is, I'm never going back to that hellhole."

"Well, hopefully you don't have to. But if you do, I'd like to go with you."

Damn. I wasn't expecting that one. "Moving on," I said, trying to sound casual. "What are your plans after graduating?"

She thought about it for a moment. "My dad wants me to go to the University of Washington to get a degree in accounting and help him manage his business. He's trying to expand, but he's having trouble finding people willing to work long hours."

"And what do _you_ want?" I asked, gazing at her intently.

She shrugged. "I haven't made up my mind. If I was smart like you, I'm sure I could do anything, but people like me have to accept whatever comes along."

"That's no way to live. And I'm going to let you in on a little secret." I leaned just a little closer. "Being intelligent doesn't make you happy. In fact, people like us tend to be pretty miserable. But that's just life; you can't have everything. So you really shouldn't envy me. Follow your own path, instead. Set your own goals, and don't let anyone stop you, least of all yourself."

She smiled. "Thanks, Beau. You sure know how to give a pep talk." She pulled a pink phone out of her pocket and checked the time. "We should get going. I don't want my parents to know I skipped class."

I glanced at my watch. Time really did fly when you were having fun.

"There's something I forgot to ask you," McKayla said as we walked to her car.

"What is it?"

"It's about Edythe." She eyed me uncertainly. "You remember how she looked at you that first day? She almost looked as if she wanted to kill you. I was wondering if she'd ever given you an explanation."

"Oh, that. Sorry," I said firmly. "I promised her I wouldn't talk to anyone else about this."

"Come on," McKayla insisted as she unlocked the door. "I told you Jeremy had been the one to babble about you going to dinner with her. Why can't you tell me what happened? It can't be anything you did."

"Technically, no. But it still upsets her to talk about this." I opened the door and sat next to her.

"Please? I won't tell anyone, I promise." Her pleading expression matched her tone.

"That's not the first time I've heard that today." I sighed. She wasn't going to drive until I told her something.

"Edythe told me that there was a student at the school she went to in Alaska, who – molested her." My voice wavered, and I turned away. "He would always come after her, but nobody else noticed or cared. Eventually she stopped going to school. That's one of the reasons why her family moved here."

"That's awful," she said, aghast. "But – what does this have to do with you?"

"That's the interesting part," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. "According to Edythe, I look exactly like him."

McKayla gasped. "No way."

"You can imagine what must have gone through her mind when she saw me, thinking it was him. She missed the rest of the week after that. It wasn't until she'd accepted that I merely bore an uncanny resemblance to that pervert and that no one would threaten her anymore that she came back. How ironic; we're actually friends now."

McKayla leaned back against the car seat. "It all makes sense now. I never imagined – well, no one could have imagined why she reacted to you the way she did."

I waited patiently for her to absorb the information, but I didn't have all day. "Um, hello? Aren't we supposed to be going somewhere?"

"Oh, right." She'd completely forgotten that we were already in her car. "Sorry." She started the engine, and off we went.

I stood in the front porch of Charlie's house, staring out into the rain, half-expecting Edythe to show up. But that was stupid; she obviously understood that I was only following her advice in keeping my distance. I felt a little guilt, to be honest. Both Edythe and McKayla were paying for my meals now. It felt like I was taking advantage of them. But what was I supposed to do? I never asked either of them to pay.

"When do you get off lying?"

I turned around and saw Edythe standing in the front porch only a few meters away, looking amused, her hair dripping wet but looking perfect as always. How long had she been there?

I groaned. "You'd been eavesdropping on our entire conversation? Is it even remotely possible for me to have just a little bit of privacy?"

She smiled. "Maybe. But you always have the most fascinating conversations. I just can't help myself."

I was suddenly curious. "So did she believe me?" I was almost certain that she had, but I wanted confirmation.

She chuckled. "Every word. You are a very good liar, I must say, and you have a wonderful imagination. You almost had me convinced." She was suddenly serious. "Do you really like her, or are you just using her to stay away from me?"

"What's it to you?" I asked indifferently.

"It matters," she said indignantly. "Don't you see, Beau? No matter how much I try, I just can't stay away from you. I need to know when … if… the day comes when we part ways, you'll have someone who will be there for you." Her expression hardened. "Or are you just playing games with us?"

I scowled. "Oh, I'm the one playing games now? Both of you – no – half the girls in the school were chasing after me, and I tried to ignore them. Yet now I'm somehow responsible? Get a grip."

"All I'm asking is –" Suddenly her jaw was clenched, her brows pulled down into a hard line over her eyes. She glanced at me for one brief second.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Another complication," she said glumly.

Headlights flashed through the rain. I looked up, expecting to see Charlie, but it was a dark sedan I didn't recognize.

"We'll talk later," she said hurriedly. "I have to go."

Before I could respond, she ran off into the rain.

I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it was too dark.

"Hey, Beau," called a familiar, husky voice from he driver's seat of the sedan.

"Jules?" I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Charlie's cruiser swung around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.

Julie was already climbing out, her wide grin visible even through the darkness. In the passenger seat was a much older woman, an imposing woman with an unusual face – stern and stoic, with creases that ran through the russet skin like an old leather jacket. And the surprisingly familiar eyes, set deep under the heavy brows, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient to match the face. It was Julie's mother, Bonnie Black. She was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at her. Then I processed more – her eyes were wide, as if in shock or fear, her nostrils flared – and my smile faded.

Another complication indeed.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's note - I guess I change my mind. Instead of publishing a chapter every Saturday, I'll just publish one every weekend. Anyway, let me know what you think of this one. As always, thanks for reading!

Chapter 12

"Bonnie!" Charlie called as soon as he got out of his car.

I turned toward the house, motioning to Julie for her to follow as I ducked under the porch. I heard Charlie greeting her loudly behind me.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, young lady."

"We get permits early on the rez," Julie said while I unlocked the door and flicked on the porch light.

Charlie laughed. "Sure you do."

"I have to get around somehow." I recognized Bonnie's deep voice easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly much younger.

I went inside, leaving the door open behind me and turning on the lights before I hung up my jacket. Then I stood in the door, watching anxiously as Charlie and Jules helped Bonnie out of the car and into her wheelchair.

I backed out of the way as the three of them hurried in, shaking off the rain.

"This is a surprise," Charlie was saying.

"It's been too long," Bonnie answered. "I hope it's not a bad time. We came a bit sooner than I'd planned." Her dark eyes flashed up to me again, their expression unreadable.

"No, it's great. I hope you can stay for the game."

Julie grinned. "That's the plan – our TV broke last week."

Bonnie made a face at her daughter. "And, of course, Jules was _dying_ to see Beau again," she added. Jules returned the scowl.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, turning toward the kitchen. Bonnie's searching gaze made me uncomfortable.

"Naw, we ate just before we came," Jules answered.

"Good, because all we have are grilled cheese sandwiches."

She laughed. "How about you, dad?" I called over my shoulder as I escaped around the corner.

"Sure," he replied, his voice moving in the direction of the front room and the TV. I could hear Bonnie's chair follow.

The grilled cheese sandwiches were in the frying pan and I was slicing up a tomato when I sensed someone behind me.

"So, how are things?" Jules asked.

"Pretty good." It wasn't exactly true, but I didn't want to ruin the mood. "How about you? Did you finish your car?"

"No." She frowned. "I still need parts. We borrowed that one." She pointed with her thumb in the direction of the front yard.

"I haven't talked to Old Jack yet. He'll probably have a master cylinder."

"I'd appreciate it." She grinned. "So who was the girl you were talking to?"

"She's my girlfriend," I replied . "We've been going out for a few weeks now."

She raised her eyebrows. "I thought McKayla was your girlfriend," she said, surprised.

I grinned. "I never said she wasn't."

Her mouth dropped. "You're going out with both of them? Do either of them know?"

"What they don't know won't hurt them." I was suddenly serious. "I still don't know who I really want to be with, so for now I'm keeping my options open."

She stared at me, trying to decide if I was telling the truth. I couldn't help it anymore; I laughed. "You almost fell for it, didn't you?"

She laughed as well and shook her head. "Are you actually dating either of them?"

"I'm going out with McKayla, but I honestly don't know how long it's going to last. She's nice, but I don't know if she's really my type. And the girl you saw a while ago is just a friend. Her name's Edythe Cullen, by the way." I went back to flipping sandwiches, trying to pretend that her last name didn't mean anything.

To my surprise, she giggled. I glanced down at her. She looked a little embarrassed.

"Guess that explains it, then," she said. "I wondered why my mom was acting so strange, though the fact that Edythe snuck off didn't exactly help." She smirked. "Are you sure you're just friends?"

"Of course," I replied in mock-innocence. "I would never do that to McKayla."

She shook her head again. "I wish my mom was more like you. But no, I'm stuck with a superstitious old bat who believes in ridiculous stories."

"All cultures have their own myths," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "Did you know that the Cherokee believed that the Milky Way was formed from cornmeal scattered by a giant dog from the spirit world? Of course, now we know the Milky Way is a collection of stars roughly thirty-one kiloparsecs in diameter held together by gravity, but there's no way they could've known that."

I paused, gathering my breath. Julie was looking at me, fascinated. "Personally, I think there are aspects of one's culture worth preserving, no matter how stupid they might sound to everyone else. If people suddenly decided that they no longer cared what their ancestors believed, then the world would lose something valuable."

"Wow," Julie said. "I didn't know you felt so strongly about it. And all of this coming from the white guy."

"That might be the reason," I replied with an apologetic smile.

The sandwiches were ready. I gathered a few plates and carried the food out to Charlie, then went back to the kitchen. I'd never understood the appeal of televised sports.

"You shouldn't be trying to make up for what people did in the past," Julie said softly. "It's not your fault. And besides," she added playfully. "Why are these dumb myths worth preserving anyway? Werewolves, vampires, and the Milky Way made out of cornmeal? I think we're better off with science."

"Probably," I said, amused by her insensitivity. "At the very least, they're entertaining. You should hear the Greek myth of how the Milky Way was formed."

I hesitated. "So has she told my dad about any of this?"

Julie stared at me for a minute, and I couldn't read the expression in her dark eyes. "I doubt it," she finally answered. "I think Charlie chewed her out pretty good last time. They haven't spoken much since – tonight is sort of a reunion, I think. It's unlikely she'd bring it up again."

Just after I finished eating my grilled cheese sandwich, I heard a knock on the front door.

"I'll get it," I said, already knowing who it was. She'd be disappointed again, it seems.

I opened the door. "Hi, McKayla," I said, hoping my smile looked sincere.

"Hi," she said. "So are we still going to dinner?"

"Actually, I already ate," I replied. "Bonnie came over to visit. She's a friend of my dad, and I had to make dinner." I smiled. "Want to try my grilled cheese sandwiches?"

"Sure," she said, returning my smile, and walked inside.

Her smile disappeared when she saw Julie standing near the kitchen.

"Hello," McKayla said warily.

"Hey," Julie replied indifferently.

For a few tense seconds, nobody spoke.

"Ok," I said awkwardly, trying to break the ice. "My dad's in the living room, if you want to say hello. There's still plenty of grilled cheese sandwiches, and the plates are in the cupboard over the sink, so help yourself."

"Thanks."

I made my way to the dining room, which we almost never used (it was tiny, and we always ate in the kitchen anyway), and Julie followed.

"She's really not your type," Julie whispered.

"Don't be so quick to judge," I said. "I'll admit, she's a bit of a control freak, but I like her, and, surprisingly enough, she likes me."

Julie giggled. "I'm not the judgmental type; if anything, she fits that description better than I do. I just think you could do better."

"Would you be surprised if I told you I never even had a girlfriend before I came here?"

Julie seemed surprised. "Really? Then I guess the girls in Phoenix never knew what they were missing out on. But," she said, in a low voice, "if you fall in love with the first girl you meet who seems to like you, you'll almost certainly be disappointed."

"Spoken like someone who's experienced heartbreak," I said teasingly.

Julie grinned. "Not yet, thank God. That's the advantage of having siblings; you can learn from their stupid mistakes. You should've seen Aaron after his first girlfriend left him." She shook her head in amusement.

"I guess we'll see how it plays out, then," I said.

After a few minutes of chatting absently with Julie, McKayla walked into the dining room. "I was going to Port Angeles to buy a few things for the dance. Do you want to come?"

Port Angeles. Why was she stupid enough to think I'd go back there?

"I… guess. I'll ask my dad." I had a feeling I'd regret the decision, but it wouldn't be the first time. In any case, I wanted to make it up to her for missing dinner.

I walked into the living room. There was a commercial break, so I wouldn't distract my dad from his precious game.

"Hey dad," I said. "I was going with McKayla to Port Angeles today. I was wondering if that's okay with you." I glanced sideways at Bonnie. Her expression was unreadable, but didn't seem hostile.

"It's a little late," Charlie said uncertainly. "You sure about this?"

"Let the boy go out," Bonnie said suddenly, smiling. "He won't be young forever, and he should enjoy it while he can."

Charlie still seemed a bit worried. "Alright," he said hesitantly. "But try to be back before midnight."

After saying goodbye to Julie (who didn't seem very keen about the idea), McKayla and I made our way to Port Angeles. Apparently having thrown caution to the wind, she drove even faster than Jeremy had.

"So," she asked, "do you think she's cute?"

"Julie? Come on, she's only fifteen. If I went out with her, I'd be accused of statutory rape. It's almost tantamount to pedophilia – "

"That's not what I asked," she said, smiling.

I sighed, and stared out into the sunset. "Yeah, she's cute. But that doesn't mean I'm attracted to her."

"What were you guys talking about?" she asked.

"She asked if I was planning another trip to La Push. I told her I didn't know. Other than that, we mostly just talked about life here in Forks."

"Do you think she likes you?"

"Dear God," I said, exasperated." Are you going to be this paranoid every time a girl talks to me?"

"Sorry," she said. "You know what? Let's just forget about that and think about something else. Did you know Logan asked Taylor to the dance?"

I was confused. "How is that noteworthy?"

"It's girl's choice, silly."

"Oh, yeah." I'd almost entirely forgotten about the arbitrary rules regarding the dance. "Did she accept his offer?"

"Yes, but she wasn't very enthusiastic. She told me she only did it because there wasn't anyone else left."

I snorted. "I'd have preferred not going to the dance at all if the only choice left was Logan."

She giggled. "I know what you mean. But you know why he was mean to you, right? He was jealous, afraid that Taylor would run off with you the moment you asked her out."

"I don't care," I said coldly. "If Taylor likes me, that's her problem. She knows I won't reciprocate, but I'm under no obligation to make it easier for him. If he wants her attention, he should try to man up for a change instead of blaming it on someone else."

We arrived at Port Angeles in less than forty minutes, for which I was relieved. I was eager to be alone, at least for a while.

"There's something I need to buy that I forgot last time," I said to McKayla. "I'll meet you in front of the theater by 8:00."

"Sounds good," she replied, smiling. "And don't run into any thugs this time."

"Will do," I replied dryly.

She headed off, and I stood there for a moment, thinking.

"Hello, Beau."

I turned around. Standing in the alley, partly hidden in shadow, was a tall figure dressed in black.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. Talk about déjà vu; the last time this happened, I'd almost died. There was little chance of Edythe saving me this time.

The mystery figure stepped out into the light cast by a nearby lamp. He was young, likely in his mid-twenties, with brown hair in a crew cut and well-formed features. His body was covered in some sort of dark gray body armor, and his skin was just a shade darker than mine. It was a very cool look, I had to admit, but strangely terrifying as well.

He smiled, his silver eyes glinting. "Call me Sirius." He spoke in a tenor voice oddly similar to Archie's, though it was slightly deeper and more authoritative.

"Wait," I said, holding up my hands. " You're not here to kill me or hold me hostage? I swear I didn't know anything." Was I joking? I honestly had no idea.

He laughed regardless. "I don't mean to hurt you, and those punks won't be bothering you anymore. I just came to talk. "

"About what, exactly?" I eyed him warily, not knowing what to expect.

"About you." He pulled out a small u-shaped gadget from his left pocket. "Your name is Beaufort Swan. You were born September 13, 1987 to Charles Swan and Renée Dwyer. You spent most of your life living in Phoenix with your mother."

"Ok, that's weird," I admitted. "But I could've gotten as much from my high school counselor."

"Alright," he replied, grinning. "Your best friend, Manuel "Manny" Villegas, left Phoenix when you were thirteen. You volunteered at a nursing home every weekend, which you haven't been able to do anymore since there aren't any nursing homes in Forks. You're also a Lutheran, and you've gone to church every Sunday since you were fifteen." He gave me a sympathetic look. "You have a dark past. I don't blame you for leaving, nor would anyone else."

I was speechless. "How the hell do you know all of that?"

"We've been observing you for a while," he said nonchalantly.

"Who's _we_?"

He ignored my question and turned on the device, which began projecting blue holograms in what appeared to be Greek. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. "Interesting," he muttered, absent-mindedly flipping through the holograms. "It says here your paternal great-great-great grandfather was a Union general. Highly decorated, as well. That seems like something your father would brag about, but I'm guessing he never knew."

"Give me that," I said, trying to grab the device, but he held it out of my reach. It didn't matter; I couldn't read Greek, anyway.

I relented. "What do you want?"

"It's not about what I want," he said. "There's a certain family, and I use that term very loosely, that we've been keeping an eye on for a long time. Since before you were born, actually. Incidentally, that's also why you've caught our attention. See, a particular member of this group has taken a keen interest in you. In fact, that's an understatement." He smirked. "I think you know who I mean."

Edythe. "And why do you care?"

"Because she's dangerous," Sirius replied soberly. "They all are. And she's been trying to stay away from you, but she's failed miserably."

"You know, don't you?" It was a statement, not a question. If he was serious about having watched the Cullens for God knows how long, then he knew they were vampires.

"Yes," he said. "You're well-aware of the threat they pose to everyone around them. Granted, they're far more civilized than the rest of their kind, though that's not saying much. All I'm asking is that you stay away from them until they're gone."

I looked away from his piercing gaze. "I don't know if I can."

"Why not?" he asked. " I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you were capable."

"You don't understand," I said emphatically. "I can barely stop thinking about her. Every night I go to sleep I dream about Edythe." I was embarrassed. Why did I have to blurt that out?

"But you have to," he replied firmly. "If you remain with her, one of two things will happen. You'll either wind up getting killed or become a vampire, just like them. And believe me, not one of them would remain the way they are if they were given a choice." He gave me an odd look, one I couldn't decipher.

"And how do you suppose I would do that?" I asked. "The alternatives aren't very appealing. The only reason I'm with McKayla at this point is because that's what Edythe wants, and I don't know how long that'll last."

"Well," he said thoughtfully, " you can do something to hurt Edythe's feelings. Not so much that she would kill you, but enough to give her the impression that you don't want anything to do with her. You've been doing that already, in one form or another; it shouldn't be difficult." He shrugged. " And in any case, the world is a big place. I'm sure you'll find someone else eventually."

"What's it to you? What do you get from any of this?"

He smiled enigmatically. "You have a lot of potential. More than you realize." He looked up at the sky. "It's almost full moon," he said, so quietly I could barely hear him. He turned to me again.

"One more thing," he added. "I'd very much appreciate it if you kept our little conversation a secret, especially from Edythe."

"Wouldn't she be able to – well, you know – "

Sirius laughed. "Don't worry, she can't read my mind any more than she can read yours."

"I knew it!" I exclaimed excitedly. "I knew there was someone else besides me."

" Right now she's at home, agonizing over her decision to let you come to Port Angeles again," he said, amused. "As if that were her decision to make." He turned off the holographic device and placed it in his pocket.

"Nice talk. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get going." He began walking away, toward the street. "She loves gardenias," he added merrily. "I'll be seeing you around."

"Wait – " He'd already made it to the other side of the street. A truck came just before I could cross. When it passed, Sirius was gone.

How had he known I'd come to get flowers for McKayla, and that she liked gardenias (I assumed he wasn't talking about Edythe)? Just how long had he been spying on me, and on the Cullens, for that matter? None of this made any sense. Was he working for the government? That was the most logical explanation I could come up with, but it didn't explain why he'd been dressed in armor, or the palpable aura of intimidation he'd projected, which was only partly ameliorated by his oddly cheerful demeanor. Though he made it clear he had no intention of hurting me, he also came across as someone who was used to getting his way. He didn't even seem entirely human, but he clearly wasn't a vampire either. If anything, he seemed to despise them.

Regardless, there was something I did know: I could never intentionally hurt Edythe just to stay away from her, or for any reason, in fact. Not because I was afraid of what might happen, but because I'd already fallen in love with her. But I still couldn't be with her. She was dangerous, and we both knew it. And since when did that stop me, I asked myself. How long would I keep pretending I didn't care about her? How long would I keep this charade going?

I gnashed my teeth in frustration as I looked for the nearest florist shop. What was I going to do? Buy gardenias for an insecure, paranoid girl I didn't even have feelings for? Yes, that was exactly what I was going to do.

"So you found what you were looking for?" McKayla asked, eyeing the bag I was carrying,

"Yeah," I said.

"Then let's go."

Best idea ever.

We were driving through the darkness, only a few kilometers from my house, when I finally said it.

"I can't do this anymore."

She almost lost control of the wheel. "Can't do what, exactly?" she asked reproachfully.

"Look, you're attractive, and you're fun to be around. Any guy would enjoy being with you, including me, but I can't keep pretending I'm in love with you. I'm sorry."

"Three days," she muttered. "Three days before the dance, and you decide to tell me. Why? You realize I already bought my dress? What am I going to tell everyone? That you suddenly changed your mind?"

"You don't have to tell them anything. I'm still going to the dance, unless you don't want me to anymore." Was that what she was worried about?

She was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I do. But tell me: is this about Edythe? Is she the reason we can't be together anymore?"

I didn't answer. Comparing her to Edythe was frankly unfair; how could she, or any girl for that matter, possibly compete with a vampire?

"I never said we couldn't be together. I'd very much like for us to be friends. I just don't think we make a good couple, that's all."

She sighed. "I guess. But can you do me a favor? Don't tell anyone until after the dance."

"Fine," I said. That, at least, I could do for her.

We finally arrived at my house. I opened the door and climbed out.

"Good night, McKayla," I said.

"Good night," she replied curtly.

I closed the door.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Author's note- _Another late chapter. I guess I should start saying that I'll have them done on Friday; that way I'll finish them by Saturday. Anyway, I wasn't sure at first if adding more chapters than are in the book was the best thing to do, but I realized this is just the way the story has to unfold. I can't take it back, so screw it_. :)

Had I known what the night would bring, I might have chosen not to sleep.

I was back in Phoenix, in the elementary school. It was a clear, sunny day; yet another opportunity for Nathan, an obnoxious punk and self-styled king of the playground, to chase after me, along with several of his cohorts.

"What's wrong, Beaufort?" he yelled at me. "You don't think you can fight?"

I still bore the bruises of my previous encounter with him, and had no desire to relive the experience. I ran as fast as I could, but he eventually caught up with me.

Grabbing the back of my shirt, he pulled me to the ground. His friends started gathering around me, laughing, as Nathan proceeded to kick me viciously.

"You think you're so smart, huh?" he snarled.

I caught the bastard's leg before he could kick me again, and yanked as hard as I could. He fell beside me, but immediately after I got up, another kid punched me in the stomach. I doubled over in pain, gasping for breath. Suddenly I heard Ms. Wright yelling, "Hey, break it up!"

The other kids suddenly looked very innocent as she made her way to where we were.

"What's going on?" Ms. Wright asked. She saw Nathan still on the ground and eyed me suspiciously. "Did you do this, Beau?"

I glanced at Nathan. He was writhing in pain and covered in dirt, posing as the victim. "No, ma'am" I replied in a small voice.

The other kids immediately sprang to Nathan's defense. "Yes he did," said Robert, the same kid who had punched me.

"I saw everything," said Joshua, a sycophant and a scrawny little jerk who looked at Nathan like an older brother. "We were playing here, and then Beau came and pushed him over, then he started kicking him." He stared at Ms. Wright with doe eyes. "We just came over to help. I promise."

Ms. Wright turned to glare at me. "Come with me, Beau."

I couldn't believe this. She took their word over mine? I clenched my fists in anger as I began walking with her to the principal's office. Just before we entered the school building, I turned around. There they were still, staring at me and snickering.

"You're in trouble now, Beau," Robert shouted, grinning.

I hated them. I hated every single one of them. One day, I promised myself, I would make them pay.

The dream shifted. Now I was in a forest, alone, with dark gray clouds overhead. I thought I was waiting for someone, but I wasn't sure who.

I heard someone call my name. "Beau!" The velvet voice sounded familiar.

I turned around. There she was, smiling, her metallic bronze hair waving as she ran toward me. She was so flawlessly perfect; how could I possibly deny her? I began walking toward her.

Suddenly a dark figure crashed into her, sending her flying into a tree, which snapped with the weight of her body.

"No!" I shouted. I made my way to her, but the dark figure was already there. It – he – seized her by the neck and picked her up with an armored hand, seemingly without effort.

"I told you to stay away from her," the dark figure said, and I suddenly recognized the voice.

"Don't hurt her," I implored. She was gasping for air, vainly struggling against Sirius's iron grip.

"She was going to kill you," he said, disgusted. "How can you possibly defend this animal?"

"That's not true," I said. I looked at Edythe, but she avoided my gaze. No, it couldn't be. Had she really been planning to take my life?

"Run, Beau," she muttered weakly.

Sirius chucked. "There's no need to run from me. I'm not the one planning to eat you." He turned to her. "You believed that you were safe, that your crimes would go unpunished?" He shook his head. "We were watching, waiting, but not anymore. I'm going to end this right now." He tightened his grip around her throat.

I screamed.

I stood up, gasping and covered in sweat. I looked around; I was in a bed, not in a playground or the middle of the forest. I looked at my watch; it was 4:30 a.m. I collapsed back onto the bed, wiping the sweat off my forehead. This was not a drug-induced nightmare, but what did it mean, if it meant anything? One was just an unpleasant memory, which I'd thought I had buried when I left Phoenix, but the other was much more terrifying. Was Sirius really willing (not to mention capable) of killing Edythe to keep her from me? Could I live with myself if that ever happened? I didn't know, and I was terrified of going back to sleep. I reminded myself it was just a nightmare. I wasn't going to let Sirius or anyone tell me what to do, and besides, how could he possibly overpower Edythe? Still, I needed to find a way to distract myself.

I turned on the lights and went through my drawer until I found what I was looking for. Maybe a book on thermodynamics would do the trick. I flipped through the pages, which were full of untidy scrawling from its previous owner, who had so thoughtfully dropped it off at the library (I'd begged my mom to let me keep it, and she'd reluctantly acquiesced).

I found a problem that caught my attention. I needed to determine if it was feasible to compute the Helmholtz free energy for a van der Waals gas. The equation of state was ( _P_ +)( _V_ - _nb) = nRT,_ where and _b_ were constants which depended on the type of gas and _n_ was the number of moles. The heat capacity was assumed to be (3/2) _nR._

I dug through my backpack until I found my Trig notebook (which I rarely used for actual trig problems) and began writing.

First, the pressure had to be expressed through the volume, so I wrote:

 _P=_

What was the next step? I tried to think, but I was still groggy from waking up early.

I stared at the equation, unable to make any headway. What was the matter with me? I'd done similar problems before without much effort, yet a simple derivation of an equation for specific heat was apparently beyond me.

I threw the notebook across the room in frustration. Why did I even bother doing this? I already knew why I couldn't concentrate. I turned off the lights, climbed back to bed, and closed my eyes.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours. I noticed the room was gradually growing brighter, but I tried to ignore it. I rolled around, trying to find a better position to sleep in, but it was futile. I cursed myself for sleeping early; I almost always went to bed after 11:00 p.m., but yesterday I'd gone to sleep almost as soon as I got home, which was at around 9:30 p.m. Circadian rhythms always took time to adjust to changing sleep patterns, and, combined with what had happened yesterday, it was (in retrospect) hardly surprising that I'd had these horrible dreams. Of course, there was another explanation; I felt guilty about breaking up with McKayla and harbored an unconscious desire to suffer. No, that theory was a little too Freudian for my taste.

I opened my eyes again and looked at my watch. Time to get up.

A plan was forming in my mind for putting all of this on a back burner, and hopefully accomplish a little more. I went to the ramshackle old basement and searched around until I found what I was looking for. I grinned. This was going to be good.

Breakfast was the usual, quiet event I expected (and hoped for, to be honest). Charlie fried eggs for himself; I had my bowl of cereal.

"So you're going with McKayla to the dance this Saturday, right?" he asked.

"That's the plan, dad," I replied calmly. It was the truth, but I honestly didn't have much enthusiasm for it.

He smiled. "Well son, I'm glad you finally found someone you like."

If only he knew. "Yeah," I replied casually.

Charlie left then, with a goodbye wave, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and gather my books. I then gathered everything I needed from the basement and loaded it onto the truck. I briefly wondered if I fully understood the ramifications of what I was about to do. Probably not, but I decided I didn't care.

As soon as I got off my truck, Edythe was there, smiling. "Good morning," she said, her velvety voice irresistible.

I smiled back, surprised by how easily she could brighten up my day. "Hello."

Her eyes roamed over my face as we walked toward the school. "You look tired," she said, noticing the circles under my eyes.

"I didn't sleep very well," I admitted.

"Why?" she asked.

I hesitated. "Bad dreams. I'd rather not talk about it."

She continued to stare at me. "Ok," she said, though she looked distinctly unsatisfied.

"So," she muttered quietly, making sure no one was within earshot. "You finally broke up with McKayla. May I ask why?"

"No, you may not," I replied. I stared at her accusingly. "And who told you?"

"Very funny," she said. "That's all she's been thinking about this morning."

I sighed. "You want the truth?"

"Yes," she said emphatically, unable to hold back her desperation.

"Then you'll have to wait until lunch," I said, smirking.

"Are you serious?" she asked angrily. "You really are just playing games, aren't you?"

I looked away. "I'm going to be late for English. I'll talk to you later."

I was unable to concentrate in any of my classes. I still had a headache from my sleep deprivation. I decided to try to find as many Mersenne primes as I could to distract myself. 3, 7, 31, 127, …

By the time I got to 524,287, I was mentally exhausted. That was it; no more math, at least for a while. Finally, the bell rang. It was time to go to lunch.

Unsurprisingly, Edythe was waiting outside the door. "We have much to discuss," she said. "And you better tell me everything."

I smiled. "Eventually."

"I'll do whatever you want," she pleaded as we walked to the cafeteria. "But please, no more secrets."

"I'm not asking anything of you," I said. I walked toward our usual table, and she followed.

"You're not going to get anything?" she asked, puzzled.

"The food's not very healthy, and I can't afford to pay. Besides, I'm not hungry."

"Not eating is less healthy," she replied as we sat down. "And you know I'll pay for whatever you want."

"I don't want to take advantage of you," I said.

"You're not," she said. "It's really not an issue. Are you sure you're not going to eat?"

"Yes," I said, a little more forcefully than I'd intended.

"Fine," she said, scowling.

My gaze wandered toward the Cullen table. There they were, with food on all of their plates, masquerading as normal human beings. Idly, I wondered how they would react to what I had planned.

"Beau?" Edythe said, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yes?" I'd half-forgotten she was there.

"You were going to tell me why you two had broken up," she said impatiently.

"Is it really any of your business?" I asked, amused.

"You tell me," she replied.

I sighed. "I didn't think that relationship really had a future. I like McKayla, but as a friend, not a girlfriend. She took it fairly well, actually, since I promised her I'd go to the dance. And yes, I am going with her to the dance. There, that's it."

She eyed me suspiciously. "Really? And why didn't you answer McKayla when she asked you if I was the reason you two broke up?"

"Because she's jealous and paranoid; I didn't know what she might do if I told her anything. Hmm, now that I think about it, she's not so different from you."

She pursed her lips but didn't reply.

I laughed. "I'm kidding, Edythe. Lighten up. Speaking of which – " I glanced at my watch – "I'm going to get a few things. I'll be back in a few minutes." I rose from the table and walked toward the entrance.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to do something reckless and stupid?" she asked, though she couldn't help smiling.

I grinned. "That's the plan."

I opened my truck and smiled in anticipation. There it was, Charlie's old boombox as well as a pair of sunglasses I'd brought from Phoenix, which I knew I wouldn't really need here but brought anyway just because they looked cool. I put on the sunglasses and carried the boombox, which was lighter than it looked, despite its age. I had a special song in mind, an old one but one I thought was entirely appropriate for the occasion.

I carried the boombox inside the school, making sure none of the faculty noticed. Right before reaching the cafeteria, I turned it on.

The reaction was immediate, as I'd anticipated. Everyone turned to look at me as they heard the unmistakable "Ooga ooga ooga chaka" from the boombox.

I looked first at Edythe, then at McKayla. They were wearing identical expressions of shock, their mouths hanging open in astonishment.

" _I can't stop this feeling_ ," I sang, in tune with the lyrics. " _Deep inside of me. Girl you just don't realize, what you do to me_."

I set the boombox on top of Allen's table. "Go Beau!" Erica shouted. Jeremy and Allen both grinned. Becca just looked at me, not knowing what to say.

" _When you hold me, in your arms so tight._ Come on people, let's sing!"

Most of the cafeteria joined in. " _I'm hooked on a feeling. I'm high on believing."_

I grinned. Who knew most of them would recognize the song?

"Why don't we do a warm-up before the dance?" I shouted.

Gradually, the students rose up and started dancing rowdily, laughing as they did so. I knew at least some of them were laughing at me, but I couldn't care less.

I was dancing and twirling on my own, and I heard Taylor cheer me on, "You've got the moves!" Logan gave her a disapproving look, but she didn't seem to notice.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw McKayla leaving the cafeteria, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible.

Which left Edythe. She was still sitting down, shaking her head in amazement.

"You are unbelievable," she said.

I took off my sunglasses. "Care to dance?" I asked, offering my hand.

She took it. "How do you even dance to this?"

I shrugged. "Just make something up."

She began moving to the rhythm of the music, her movements smooth and coordinated, like she'd been doing this her whole life. She was a marvel to behold.

"Wow," I said, stunned. "You ever took dancing lessons?"

She smiled. "I'm a natural."

I glanced at the Cullen table. Archie and Jessamine were both dancing, and as Archie turned around, he flashed me a wide grin and two thumbs up. I grinned back. Royal, who was dancing with Eleanor, didn't look nearly as happy; she'd probably dragged him into it. I looked away before he caught me staring; I didn't want him ruining the moment.

I turned to Edythe. "So what do you think?"

She shook her head again. "Other than the fact that you're just asking for trouble, I don't know what it means."

"Do you think I did this for McKayla?" I asked quietly. "Earlier you asked me if she'd been right about you being the reason I'd left her. I hope this clears any doubts you might have had."

Realization dawned on her beautiful face. "Then you mean – "

"Yeah," I said. " _I'm high on believing. That you're in love with me_."

The song was over by the time Mrs. Banner walked in to see what all of the ruckus was about. She seized the boombox, which was still on top of the lunch table, and turned it off.

"Who played this?" she asked, her voice booming across the cafeteria.

Nobody said a word.

"I will find out," she said. "And in the meantime, this belongs to us. If someone doesn't come for it by the end of the day, we're throwing it away."

She walked away with the boombox. As soon as she left, everyone began laughing. Jeremy came and gave me a high five. "No one's ever done anything like this," he said. "I'd pay for you to do it again."

"Thanks," I said, smiling. "But I don't think they'd let me."

Allen walked up to me. "You sure know how to put on a good show," he said, grinning. Apparently Becca hadn't enjoyed it nearly as much; she gave me a long look before walking away.

"I try. I'm just trying to get everyone to loosen up a bit. And hopefully get some practice."

Jeremy laughed. "After this, everyone's going to look forward to the spring dance, just to see what crazy idea you have in mind."

Speaking of which – where did McKayla sneak off to?

"I'll be back," I said. I needed to make amends with her.

I didn't have to look far. She stood outside the cafeteria, staring off into space.

"Hey," I said.

She turned around. "Hi. Did you have fun?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but she interrupted.

"It's all right. I get it. She's the one you really want. I just didn't want to accept it. I was always the one chasing after you."

"I didn't want to accept it either," I said, mildly surprised at how easily the words came out. "For a while, I thought we really had a future together." I paused. "But as time went on, I realized I'd already fallen for someone else. I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry." I shook my head. "This was stupid. All of this was stupid. I don't know what I was thinking."

She smiled. "It was entertaining. But I knew who it was meant for."

"I would have danced with you. They still don't know that we're not together anymore."

She shook her head. "And you wouldn't have meant any of it. This was for the best."

Now I _really_ felt bad about leaving her.

She continued. "You don't have to come to the dance with me. I wanted you to because I hoped maybe I was wrong about Edythe, and you would change your mind, but you really do love her."

"I guess we're just friends now." Her voice was beginning to break.

I didn't even deserve that much. "Friends," I repeated, and we both hugged.

I was nervous as I walked into Biology, hoping no one had told Mrs. Banner I'd brought the boombox. Apparently not; she barely looked at me as I took a seat. Everyone else was still muttering and giggling, but no one gave me away.

Edythe was already there; to my surprise, she did not angle the chair to sit as far from me as the desk would allow. On the contrary, she leaned closer, and our arms were almost touching.

"I didn't think she had it in her," she whispered to me. "Letting you go, I mean."

"I'm sure she'll find someone who can make her happy," I said. "Someone better, someone who isn't screwed up like I am."

She frowned. "Don't say that about yourself," she scolded.

"It's the truth," I replied matter-of-factly. "I never did tell you the real reason I left Phoenix."

She was suddenly intensely curious. "Tell me."

"That'll have to wait," I said. Mrs. Banner came in with a television set and VCR.

"Oh, great," Edythe muttered. "This again."

"Not a particularly entertaining flick, I'm guessing?"

"I had to endure forty-five minutes of this excruciating documentary yesterday." She smiled. "But at least you're here this time."

"Well, I don't see how that changes anything," I said dryly. "A boring documentary is still a boring documentary."

"It does make a difference, believe me." She gazed at me intently. "I could stare at you all day and never get bored. You're like a puzzle with most of the pieces missing: I can only try to imagine what it might look like." She suddenly grinned. "To call you unpredictable would be a massive understatement. You're like every mystery that's ever existed rolled up into one. You're a walking enigma. I don't think even _you_ know what you're going to do next."

"Sometimes," I replied, smiling.

Mrs. Banner turned off the lights, and something very strange started to happen. Though I was already acutely aware of Edythe sitting beside me (and closer than ever, too), in the dark I began to feel something eerie. It felt much like an electrical current flowing through her body into mine. When her hair touched my arm, it was almost painful. It was a much stronger effect than could be explained through static electricity alone. I told myself it was likely purely psychological, though that did nothing to diminish the effect.

I suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to reach over and touch her – to stroke her perfect face just once in the darkness. No, what the hell was I thinking? I couldn't go around touching people just because I felt some quasi-electrical effect that was almost certainly just going on in my head.

I crossed my arms tightly over my ribs and balled my hands into fists. I'd endured far worse challenges than this; I wasn't about to give in now.

But after about fifteen minutes (that's what it felt like, anyway), I couldn't hold back anymore. Convincing myself that it was just a science experiment, I shifted my chair over and slowly leaned to the side until my arm was just touching her shoulder. She didn't move away.

I thought a little contact might alleviate the sensation, but it backfired. The frisson of electricity became much stronger. I was suddenly dying to put my arm around her, to pull her into my side and hold her against me. I wanted to run my fingers down the length of her hair, to bury my face in it. I wanted to trace the shape of her lips, the line of her cheekbone, the length of her throat…

Not exactly appropriate for a classroom full of people, especially when they were convinced I was still going out with McKayla.

I leaned forward, folding my arms on the table and gripping under the edge with my fingers. I avoided looking at her, afraid that if she was looking back at me, it would only make self-control that much harder. I tried to make myself watch the movie and just managed to catch something about symbiosis, but I couldn't make out anything else.

I was immensely relieved when Mrs. Banner hit the lights, and then finally I looked at Edythe; she was staring back, her eyes ambivalent.

We walked toward the Gym in silence. Suddenly she touched my face with the back of her cool hand, stroking once from my temple to my jaw (which still hurt slightly, but I didn't give a damn). She turned and walked away without a word.

Gym passed by fairly quickly. Coach Clapp chose McKayla as my badminton partner (neither of us had been here yesterday, so I considered it appropriate). Though I lacked experience playing, we did well, managing to win all four games. Smiling, she gave me a high five, though she had been the one to do most of the work.

"See you later," she said.

"Later," I said, and made a V sign, which made her laugh.

I felt great after walking out of Gym. I felt even better when I walked out the gym door and saw Edythe in the shadow of the gym. Everything was right in my world. A wide smile spread across my face. She smiled back.

"So," she began, "tell me about why you came to Phoenix."

I groaned. "Don't ruin the moment, please. I'll talk about anything else."

"Ok. What's your favorite color?" she asked, completely serious.

That was random. "Scarlet," I replied.

She seemed startled by my answer, which is exactly what I'd been hoping for.

"I'm kidding," I said. "It's actually gold."

"May I ask why?"

"Gold has intrinsic value," I replied, trying to keep a poker face. "People have prized it for thousands of years, and even today many people are willing to do whatever it takes to get it."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? You base your decision on what other people have done throughout history?"

"No, I just like the color," I said, grinning. "Especially on a certain someone I'm looking at right now." I stared into her eyes, suddenly mesmerized.

She looked away, smiling.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get my boombox."

After I'd taken care of that (no one had even been watching the damn thing), I went walking outside, Edythe beside me.

"Are you going to the dance?" she asked.

"Are you asking me to go with you?"

"Maybe," she replied coyly.

"I honestly don't want to go. I still feel bad about McKayla, and everyone's going to find out sooner or later that we're not together anymore. I think I should just stop with the pretense."

She gave me a strange look. "I was thinking…" She trailed off.

"What?" Now I was the curious one.

"You remember when I told you I'd show you why we couldn't go outside in daylight?"

I nodded. I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

"If you like, assuming you don't have any plans that day, maybe I could show you what I mean."

"Ok," I said slowly. "But where are we going?"

"Archie says the weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye … and you can stay with me, if you'd like to."

If I wanted to – what kind of question was that? "Sounds great," I said, grinning.

She sighed. "You should tell Charlie, though."

"Is that really something he needs to know?" I said, still smiling.

Her eyes were suddenly fierce. "This is serious. Telling him will give me some small incentive to bring you back."

"Ok," I said. "I understand." Or, as the Spanish would say, _Obedezco pero no cumplo._

She immediately relaxed. "Alright, B.J. Thomas, I'll see you tomorrow." She gave me another one of those charming, dimpled smiles.

"You know it," I said, laughing.

I was finally looking forward to Saturday, for a change.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N – _I have several announcements. First, thanks to all of you for 3000+ views! I hope you all continue to read and enjoy the story. I would not be doing this if it weren't for you. Second, I won't be updating this story until the weekend after next. The next chapter is fairly long, and is arguably the most important in terms of Beau's character development, since he'll finally reveal why he hates Phoenix. Third, although I won't be updating this story next week, I do plan to publish the first chapter of Evening Star, which tells the story from Edythe's point of view. I'm mostly finished with that chapter, and you can expect it next Saturday. As always, thanks to all of my fans, and don't forget to review!_

Chapter 14

I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. When I woke to the pearl gray morning, I felt almost high, my mood optimistic. I caught myself whistling while I was yanking a comb through my hair, and later again as I hurtled down the stairs. Charlie noticed.

"You're cheerful this morning," he commented over breakfast.

I shrugged. "It's Friday."

I briefly considered telling him about my change of plans, then decided it could wait; I didn't want to ruin my good mood. I hurried so I would be ready to go the second Charlie left. I had my bag packed, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door as soon as I was sure Charlie would be out of sight, Edythe was faster. She was waiting, windows down, engine off.

I didn't hesitate this time as I climbed into the passenger seat. She flourished her dimples, and my pulse suddenly quadrupled (I knew that was medically impossible, but that was what it felt like). I couldn't imagine anything more beautiful – human, goddess, or angel. She was absolutely perfect; there was nothing about her that could be improved upon.

"How did you sleep?" she asked. I wondered if she knew just how irresistible her voice was, or if she made it that way on purpose.

"Fine. And yours?"

"Pleasant."

"Can I ask what you did?"

"No." She grinned. "I'll be the one asking the questions."

"Mooom," I said, in a mock-petulant tone, and she laughed.

She questioned me thoroughly. She wanted to know about every insignificant detail of my existence. Movies I'd liked and hated, the few places I'd been and the many places I wanted to go, and books – so many questions about books. She wanted to know how I'd found the time to learn three foreign languages, and how I knew so much about math, science, and history. I was relieved she didn't ask about why I'd really left Phoenix, but I also knew that our conversation was just getting started.

When she asked me about my school friends, I was silent. It wasn't a subject I was ready to discuss. Sensing my unease, she quickly changed the subject.

"So you never met anyone you wanted?" she asked in a serious tone that made me wonder what she was thinking about.

"Not in Phoenix." Not in that godforsaken place.

Her lips pressed together into a thin line.

We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in a pattern that was rapidly becoming routine. I noticed several of the students at Jeremy's table kept glancing at us, wondering why I wasn't sitting with them anymore, but I decided to ignore them.

"I should have let you drive yourself today," she said suddenly.

"Why?" I asked, taking a bite out of my sandwich.

"I'm leaving with Archie after lunch."

"Oh." I blinked, disappointed. "That's okay, it's not that far of a walk home."

She frowned at me impatiently. "I'm not going to make you walk home. We'll go get your truck and leave it here for you."

"I don't have my key with me." I sighed. "I really don't mind walking." What I really minded was not being with her.

She shook her head. "Your truck will be here, and they key will be in the ignition – unless you're afraid someone might steal it." She laughed at the thought, and I couldn't help smiling. The only use someone else would have for that thing is scrap metal.

"Okay," I agreed. I was sure my key was in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry room. Even if she managed to break into my house (which I presumed was her plan), it was highly unlikely she would find them. She seemed to feel the challenge in my consent. She smirked, overconfident.

"So where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.

"Hunting," she answered grimly. "If we're going to be alone together tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." Her face was suddenly sad … and pleading. "You can always cancel, you know."

I looked down, aware of the hypnotic power of her eyes. I would not let her talk me out of our day alone, no matter how real the danger might be. I knew it was irrational, but I didn't care.

"No," whispered, glancing back at her face. "I've made up my mind."

She made an exasperated sound. "When did you stop being so logical?" she asked.

"Since I met you," I said. It was the truth, though I hadn't admitted it to anyone (even myself) until now.

She was silent for a moment. "Perhaps you're right," she murmured. Her eyes almost seemed to darken in color as I watched.

I changed the subject "What time tomorrow?" I asked, already depressed by the thought of leaving her, even temporarily.

"That depends … It's a Saturday. Don't you want to sleep in?" she offered.

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea," I said. How would I tell Charlie? She grinned.

"Same time as usual, then?"

I nodded. "Where should I pick you up?"

"I'll come to your place, also as usual."

Dammit. If my dad saw her Volvo in the driveway –

"That won't be necessary – " I began, but she interrupted me.

"I won't be bringing a car," she said, smiling. "Let's not contribute to global warming."

"Wait, what? How will you – "

She cut me off. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there, no car." Her expression suddenly hardened. "I hope you've already told Charlie."

Did she know that I hadn't? This was going to be more complicated than I'd thought. "Of course," I replied steadily.

She didn't seem reassured, but she didn't badger me further.

"So what are you hunting tonight?" I asked

"Whatever we find in the park. We aren't going far." She stared at me, a little frustrated and slightly amused by my casual reference to her unusual lifestyle.

"Why are you going with Archie? Didn't you say he was being annoying?"

She frowned. "He's still the most … supportive."

"And the rest of them?" I asked hesitantly, not sure I really wanted to know. "What are they?"

Her brow puckered. "Incredulous, for the most part."

I glanced toward them. They sat staring off in different directions, exactly the same as the first time I'd seen them. Only now there were just four of them; their perfect, bronze-haired sister was mine, for this hour at least.

"They don't like me," I guessed.

She sighed. "Well, you can understand why Royal doesn't. The rest … they don't understand why I can't leave you alone."

I frowned. "Me, either."

She smiled. "You're not like anyone I've ever known, Beau. You fascinate me."

I shook my head. "Is that it? You still remember the way I treated you before? Why do you want to be with someone so dysfunctional when there's so many people who would be much better than I am, people who wouldn't cause you pain?"

"You're not dysfunctional," she said, almost angrily.

"Yes, I am," I insisted. "I still haven't told you everything. But know this: you wouldn't like the real me."

She gave me a sad look. "You can't possibly be worse than I am."

I'd still been staring at the Cullens while she spoke. Suddenly Royal turned his head to look directly at me. Not to look – to glare, with dark, cold eyes. I matched his stare, letting him know I wasn't afraid, until Edythe made an angry noise under her breath – a kind of hiss.

Royal turned his head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Edythe, who shook her head, her expression pained.

"Aren't you even a little afraid of him?" she asked.

"I am," I admitted. "But my anger outweighs my fear. He should keep that in mind."

She dropped her head into her hands, obviously in anguish. I suddenly felt tremendous guilt for what I said, what I'd done. I wanted to comfort her somehow, to tell her that everything would be alright, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"I'm sorry," I finally managed. "That was stupid and irresponsible."

I reached out to place my hand lightly against her elbow. She was wearing just a long-sleeved t-shirt, and the cold soaked through to my hand almost immediately.

She didn't move, and as I sat there I slowly realized that what she'd said should frighten me, but it didn't. If anything, I was afraid for her. I pushed back the memory of my dream the night before. Nothing was going to happen, I told myself.

She still had her face in her hands.

"And you have to leave now?"

"Yes." She let her hands drop. I kept my hand against her forearm. She looked at the place where we were connected, and she sighed. Suddenly her mood shifted and she grinned. "It's probably for the best. We still have fifteen minutes of that wretched movie left to endure in Biology – I don't think I could take any more. Unless you have any more bright ideas for livening up the day."

I jumped, yanking my hand back. Archie – taller than I'd thought, his eyes dark as ink – was suddenly standing behind Edythe's shoulder.

Edythe greeted him without looking away from me. "Archie."

"Edythe," he answered, imitating her tone with a mocking twist. He turned to me. "Hello, Beau." He suddenly grinned. "I just have to say; what you did yesterday was awesome. It actually makes it worth coming to school, just to see your antics."

"Thanks," I said, smiling, though I couldn't help feeling unnerved by his appearance. It was not hard to believe that Archie was a vampire, staring at me as he was with dark, hungry eyes. I felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of my neck.

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

Her voice was cold. "Nearly. I'll meet you at the car."

He left without another word; the way he moved was so fluid, so sinuous, it made me think of dancers again, though it wasn't very human.

I swallowed and trying to regain my composure. "Have fun," I said, trying to sound casual.

"Will do," she replied, grinning. She turned serious. "And try to stay safe, please. Don't get any wild ideas."

"I promise I won't do anything." Could I do that? Yes, I could. For her.

She stood, and I rose, too.

"I'll see you tomorrow." I sighed.

She smiled a wistful smile. "It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?"

I nodded glumly. "Roughly eighteen hours and twenty-seven minutes, but I'll try not to think about it."

She laughed. "I'll be there in the morning," she promised, and then she walked to my side, touched the back of my hand lightly, and walked away. I stared at her until she was gone.

Biology passed by uneventfully. I spent most of my time trying to work on some problems involving Riemannian manifolds, but I couldn't really concentrate, obsessed as I was with the trip tomorrow. I heard several of my classmates muttering and looking in my direction, but I pretended not to notice.

It was in Gym where things got a little more interesting.

"Did you hear?" McKayla said. "Jeremy and Erica aren't together anymore."

"Really?" I had noticed that they weren't sitting side by side at the lunch table, but hadn't known they'd broken off their relationship.

"Yeah. Apparently Erica was cheating on him with Sean. He just found out today."

I considered this. "So are they going to the dance?"

She smiled. "Erica is. She convinced Sean to go with her. Jeremy, on the other hand…"

"Well, maybe there's your chance," I said, smirking.

"Maybe," she replied thoughtfully. "So I guess you're not going?"

"No. I have other plans," I said evasively.

"With Edythe, right?"

"Maybe. But," I whispered conspiratorially, "don't spread the word. My dad still thinks we're going to prom together. I don't want him to find out, at least not yet."

She rolled her eyes. "We've all been seeing you with her. How long do you really think you can keep it a secret from him?"

"As long as I can," I said slyly.

"You do that," she said, smiling.

"But seriously, give Jeremy a chance. You know that guy really likes you. And if you don't like him, I'm sure you can find someone else for prom." I winked, and she chuckled.

After Gym, I walked to the parking lot without enthusiasm. I wasn't looking forward to walking home in the rain, but I couldn't think of how she would have been able to get my truck. Then again, she'd always found a way to get what she wanted.

And so she had once more. There it was – parked in the same spot where she'd parked the Volvo this morning. I shook my head, amazed, as I opened the door and found the key in the ignition as promised.

There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed the door before I opened it. Two words were written in her fancy calligraphic handwriting.

Be safe.

PS. Don't blow yourself up before I come back.

I laughed as I started the truck, before noticing something else. The gardenias I'd bought in Port Angeles were there as well. I'd never loaded them onto the truck, which meant Edythe must have been the one to do it. But why? The answer was obvious: she knew I'd bought them for McKayla before we broke up and wanted me to give them to Jeremy to give to her, which meant Edythe had known all along that Jeremy and Erica had broken up. I smiled; of course she had.

Jeremy had been surprised but thrilled, as I'd expected. It didn't take much encouraging on my part to convince him to ask her out. One less thing to worry about, I thought as I drove, glad McKayla wouldn't be going to the dance alone after all.

When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the deadbolt unlocked, just as I'd left it this morning. Inside, I went straight to the laundry room. It looked just the same as I'd left it as well. I dug for my jeans and, after finding them, checked the pockets, which, unsurprisingly, were empty. This made no sense: how could she have retrieved my keys without even moving the laundry? Yet another unsolved mystery, it seems.

Charlie was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, or possibly a basketball game – I didn't know. He was always in his own little world.

"You know, Dad …," I began, breaking into his reverie.

"Please don't give me another lecture on saturated fats and cardiovascular disease," he said, exasperated. "Just let me eat my lasagna in peace."

"That's not what I was going to say." Was I going to say anything? I wanted to tell him about my plan with Edythe. I wanted to tell him I wasn't going to the dance with McKayla, but what was the point? Edythe wanted me to inform him to give her some "small incentive" to bring me back, but what good would that really do? Was I supposed to believe Edythe actually felt intimidated by my father? Besides, if I didn't come back and he knew I'd gone with Edythe, her family could feel threatened and retaliate against him. Is that what I wanted? No; the most rational thing to do would be to not go at all. But that wasn't an option either; my mind was set. When she came, I would be waiting.

I smiled. "Did you know lasagna has been around since at least the time of the Romans? It was described in the book _De re coquinaria_ by Marcus Gavius Apicius."

"Fascinating," he muttered, though he did not sound remotely interested. " Well, I hope you have fun at the dance."

"Will do," I said, as cheerfully as I could manage. "I hope you have fun fishing tomorrow. I know it's very intellectually stimulating."

He chuckled and continued eating.

As I worked on the mindless chore of folding laundry, I couldn't help remembering that horrible dream. What if Sirius knew about my meeting with Edythe? I was almost certain that he did. Would he take her down, or did he plan to leave us alone? And if she did kill me, would he move against her and her family? No, that was ridiculous. It was just a stupid dream. And besides, I was certain that nothing would happen. It was partly because I couldn't make myself truly afraid of Edythe, especially now that I knew how much personal effort she'd expended to keep me alive. I had her note in my back pocket, and I pulled it out and read it again and again. She would do the right thing; I knew it.

I stayed up working on the thermodynamics problem I'd been unable to do on Wednesday morning until I finally figured it out. So the difference between the entropies of the van der Waals gas and the ideal gas is temperature independent after all. I smiled and went to bed, my mind finally at ease.

I woke early, having slept soundlessly and dreamlessly once again. Though I was well rested, I was on edge and jittery – now and then, almost panicked. I showered and dressed in layers out of habit, though I knew it would be sunny today. I checked out the window; Charlie was already gone and a thin layer of clouds covered the sky. I ate without tasting the food, rushing to clean up when I was done. I'd just finished brushing my teeth when a quiet knock had me vaulting my way down the stairs.

I struggled with the deadbolt longer than I should have, but I eventually opened the door, and there she was.

I took a deep breath, my nerves fading to nothing.

She wasn't smiling at first – her face was serious, even wary. But then she looked me over and her expression lightened. She laughed.

"Good morning," she chuckled.

I eyed her curiously. "Good morning," I replied. "Is there something funny?"

"We match." She laughed again.

She had on a light tan sweater with a scoop neck, a white t-shirt on underneath, and jeans. My sweater was the exact same shade, though that and my white tee both had crew necks. My jeans were the same blue color as well. Only she looked like a runway model, and I knew I did not.

I locked the door behind me while she walked to the truck. She waited by the passenger door with a martyred expression.

"Yes, Edythe, this is how the peasants get around," I said as I unlocked the door and opened it.

She rolled her eyes and climbed past me.

I got in my side and tried not to cringe as I revved the engine very loudly to life.

"Where to?" I asked after putting on my seat belt.

"Take the one-oh-one north."

It was difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling her eyes on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping town.

"Were you planning to make it out Forks before nightfall?"

"It's a long shot, but I was hoping the truck wouldn't let me down," I said jokingly.

We were soon out of the town limits, despite her pessimism. Thick underbrush and dense forest replaced the lawns and houses.

"Turn right on the one-ten," she instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed silently.

"Now we drive until the pavement ends."

I could hear a smile in her voice, but I didn't allow myself to be distracted and potentially drive off the road just to confirm.

"And what's there, at the pavement's end?"

"A trail."

"How long is it?" I asked.

"About five miles," she replied. "You're not backing down, are you?"

"Not at all," I said, smiling. "It's never too late to get into shape."

She returned my smile, and I continued driving.

"What are you thinking?" she asked impatiently after a few minutes.

"I'm wondering where we're going."

"It's a place I like to go to when the weather's nice." We both glanced out the windows at the thinning clouds.

"Charlie said it would be warm today."

"You told him what you were up to, right?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

I hesitated. I'd been keeping so many secrets from her; the least I could do was avoid lying.

"No, I didn't," I said finally.

"Why?" she asked furiously. "You promised!"

"I don't want him to know McKayla and I have broken up," I replied. "The best thing is for him to still think I'm going to the dance with her."

"Does she know, at least?"

"I told her I had other plans, and that they possibly involved going with you," I said.

"Well, that's something," she muttered, still upset.

It was silent for the rest of the drive. I tried my best to ignore her, but I knew she was angry, and rightly so. Yet I could not bring myself to feel sorry for what I did.

The road ended at a small wooden marker. I could see the thin foot trail stretching away into the forest. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out.

"I guess," I said solemnly, "now would be as good a time as any to tell me to go take a hike."

She smiled involuntarily but quickly regained her composure. Oh well; it was worth a shot.

It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I'd arrived, almost muggy under the thin clouds. I yanked off my sweater and tossed it into the truck, glad I'd worn the t-shirt – especially with five miles of hiking ahead of me.

I heard her door slam, and looked over to see that she'd removed her sweater, too, and twisted her hair into another messy bun. All she had on was a thin tank top. She was facing away from me, staring into the forest, and I could see the delicate shapes of her shoulder blades almost like furled wings under her pale skin. Her arms were so thin; it was hard to believe they contained the strength that I knew was in them.

"This way," she said, glancing over her shoulder at me, still annoyed.

She started walking into the dark forest directly to the east of the truck.

"The trail?" I asked as I hurried around the front of the truck to catch up with her.

"I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it."

"No trail? Really?"

"I won't let you get lost."

She turned then, with a mocking half-smile, and I could hardly breathe.

I'd never seen so much of her skin. Her pale arms, her slim shoulders, then fragile-looking twigs of her collarbones, the vulnerable hollows above them, the swanlike column of her neck, and the gentle swell of her breasts. She was too perfect, I realized despairingly. How could someone like her possibly belong with someone like me?

She stared at me, shocked by my tortured expression.

"Do you want to go home?" she asked quietly, a different pain than mine saturating her voice.

"No."

I walked forward till I was close beside her, anxious not to waste one second of the obviously numbered hours I had with her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice still soft.

"I'm not a fast hiker, at least not as fast as you. You'll have to be patient."

"I can be patient – if I make a great effort." She smiled, holding my gaze, trying to pull me out of my suddenly glum mood.

I tried to smile back, but I could feel that the smile was less than convincing. She searched my face.

"I'll take you home," she promised, but I couldn't tell if the promise was unconditional or restricted to an immediate departure. Obviously, she thought it was fear of my impending demise that had upset me, and I was glad that I was the one person whose mind she couldn't hear. At least that she knows about, I thought darkly.

"Alright, Girl Scout, lead the way," I said. "This is unfamiliar territory."

"Do I look like a Girl Scout?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"I don't think you want me to answer that," I said, smiling.

"You're so dumb," she said, laughing, and led the way into the forest.

It wasn't as hard as I'd been afraid it would be. The way was mostly flat, and she seemed content to go at my pace. Once, I tripped over the roots, but her hand shot out and steadied my elbow before I could fall. When she touched me, my heart thudded and stuttered like usual. I saw her expression and was suddenly sure she could hear it.

I tried to keep from looking at her; every time I did, her beauty filled me with the same sadness. She tried to distract me by asking me all of the questions she hadn't gotten to before. She asked about anything I missed about my home, insisting on descriptions of anything she wasn't familiar with. There wasn't much, but I tried my best. She asked about my mom, her hobbies, what we'd done in our free time together. She asked about birthdays, grade school teachers, and childhood pets.

"We had a little black-and-white cat show up at our house one day," I said. "My mom didn't want him at first, but I kept nagging her until she gave in. I was only nine," I said with a sheepish smile, and she laughed, louder than usual, the bell-like echoes bouncing back to me from the trees. "I started calling him Schrödinger."

She raised her eyebrows. "You knew about quantum superposition even then. You never cease to amaze me."

I was just as surprised. "I thought you didn't know physics."

She smiled guiltily. "I lied. I just wanted to see how much you knew. And yes, you did get that problem on Gaussian surfaces correct. But I'm sure you already knew that. So, is Schrödinger still living with your mom?"

"No. He died about a year ago," I said, my voice a little heavy. Ever since Manuel left, he'd been my best friend for several years. Even now, I still missed him.

"I'm sorry," she said sympathetically.

The hike took me most of the morning, but she never seemed impatient. The forest spread out around us in a labyrinth of identical trees, and I was beginning to fear that we wouldn't be able to find our way out again. She was perfectly at ease in the green maze, never showing any doubt about our direction.

After several hours, the green light that filtered down through the canopy brightened into yellow. The day had turned sunny, just as promised. For the first time since arriving, I felt excitement.

"Are we there yet?" I asked.

She smiled at the change in my mood. "Nearly. Do you see the clearer light ahead?"

I stared into the thick forest. "Not really."

"Maybe it is a bit soon for _your_ eyes.

"I should have brought binoculars then," I said, and she grinned.

And then, after another hundred yards, I could definitely see a brighter spot in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow-white instead of yellow-green. I picked up the pace, and she let me lead now, following noiselessly.

I reached the edge and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the most beautiful place I'd ever seen.

The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers – violet, yellow, and white. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the liquid rush of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly forward through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. After that first minute of awe, I turned, expecting to see her behind me, but was surprised to see her still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious eyes, and I remembered why we were here.

I took a step back, my hand stretched out toward her. Her eyes were wary, reluctant – oddly, it reminded me of stage fright. I smiled encouragingly and started walking back to her. She held up a warning hand and I stopped, my heart racing in anticipation.

Edythe took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then stepped out into the bright glare of the midday sun.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

A/N – _I thought it was very appropriate that this chapter (which corresponds to Chapter 13 in the book) is called Confessions, since both Beau and Edythe have dark secrets they were hiding. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one! And sorry for being late (again)._

Eyes closed, Edythe stepped blindly into the light.

My heart jumped into my throat and I started sprinting toward her.

" _Edythe_!"

It was only when her eyes flashed open and I got close enough to begin to understand what I was seeing that I realized she hadn't caught on fire. She threw up her hand again, palm forward, and I stumbled to a stop, my jaw dropping.

The light blazed off her skin, dancing in prism-like rainbows across her face and neck, down her arms. She was so bright I had to squint to see her clearly.

This was unreal. How was this even possible? Every time I thought she couldn't be any more perfect, any more surreal, I'd been proven wrong. She was a goddess, pure and simple.

It took me a while to see past her incandescence to the expression on her face. She was watching me with wide eyes – it almost seemed as if she were afraid. I took a step toward her, and she cringed just slightly.

"Does that hurt you?" I asked, though I suspected what her answer would be.

"No," she whispered back.

I took another step toward her, unable and unwilling to resist her anymore. She let her warning hand drop to her side. As she moved, the fire shimmered down her arm. Slowly, I circled around her, keeping my distance, trying to absorb this, to observe her from every angle. The sun played off her skin, refracting and magnifying every color light could hold. Just like a diamond, I thought, only more beautiful. But judging from the way she held herself, shoulders tight, legs braced, I realized she was having second thoughts about showing me this. I couldn't imagine why.

I finished my circle and walked closer. I couldn't stop staring, not even to blink.

"Are you scared now?" she whispered.

"That's not the word I would use."

She stared searchingly into my eyes, trying to hear what I was thinking.

I reached toward her, unhurried, watching her face for permission. Her eyes opened even wider, and she froze. Carefully, slowly, I let my fingertips graze the glistening skin on the back of her arm. I was surprised to find it just as cold as ever. While my fingers were touching her, the reflections of the fire flickered against my skin, and I smiled in amazement; it almost seemed as if _m_ y hand were on fire as well.

"What are you thinking?" she whispered.

I struggled to find words. "I'm … I never knew …" I took a deep breath, and the words finally came. "I've never seen something so beautiful, or even imagined anything like it could exist."

She seemed skeptical, but she had no reason to be. I'd never been more honest with her or with anyone else. Frankly, I was too overwhelmed to lie even if I'd wanted to.

She began lifting her hand, then dropped it. The shimmer flared. "It's very strange, though," she murmured.

"Well," I said, smiling. "I estimate your refractive index to be approximately 2.42, like that of diamond. So you shouldn't feel too strange." I winced as soon as the words came out.

Her lips curled in disgust. "Aren't you repulsed by my complete lack of humanity?"

"I find it hard to believe anyone would be."

Her eyes narrowed. " _You_ should be."

I didn't answer. She pulled her arm from under my fingertips and folded it behind her back. Rather than take her cue, I took a half-step closer to her. I could feel the reflected shine on my face.

And she was suddenly three meters away, her warning hand up again and her jaw clenched.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I need some time," she replied.

"Ok."

She nodded, then walked to the middle of the meadow, making a small arc when she passed me, still keeping her distance. She sat down with her back to me, the sunlight incandescent across her shoulder blades. Slowly, I walked closer, then sat down facing her when I was about two meters away.

"Is this all right?"

She nodded. "Just let me … concentrate."

I was willing to wait. I didn't think I'd ever tire of seeing her like this. I simply watched her, thinking.

It was about a half hour later when she suddenly lay back on the grass with one hand behind her head. The grass was long enough to partially obscure my view.

"Can I …?" I asked.

She patted the ground beside her.

I moved a meter closer, then a little more when she didn't object.

Her eyes were still closed, lids glistening pale lavender over the dark fan of lashes. Her chest rose and fell evenly, as if she were asleep, but there seemed to be a sense of effort and control to the motion. She seemed very aware of the process of breathing in and out.

I sat with my legs folded, feeling the sun against my skin – a strange feeling, since I'd become so used to the rain. The meadow was still lovely, but it was only a background now. Nothing compared to what I'd just seen.

Her lips moved, and though it seemed like she might have spoken, the sound was too quiet for me to make out. I maintained my silence, not wanting to interrupt her.

We didn't move for a long time – except for her lips, every now and then humming. An hour might have passed, maybe more. Very gradually, the tension that I'd noticed drained quietly away, till everything was serene. Every time I shifted my weight, I would end up another centimeter nearer to her.

I leaned closer, and, without thinking, I reached out with one finger to stroke the back of her hand, awed by the satin-smooth texture, cold as ice. I felt her eyes on me and I looked up, my finger frozen.

Her eyes were calm, and she was smiling.

"I still don't scare you, do I?"

"I'm afraid not." I smirked.

She grinned. Her teeth flashed in the sun.

I inched closer again, stretching out my whole hand to trace the shape of her forearm with my fingertips. I realized my fingers were trembling. Her eyes closed again.

"Do you mind?" I asked.

"No. You can't imagine how that feels."

I lightly trailed my hand over the delicate structure of her arm, following the faint pattern of veins inside the crease at her elbow. I reached to turn her hand over, and when she realized what I wanted, she flipped her palm up in a movement so fast I couldn't even see it. My fingers froze.

"Sorry," she murmured, and then smiled self-consciously; that had always been my line. Her eyes slid closed again. "It's too easy to be myself with you."

I lifted her hand, turning it this way and that as I watched the sun shimmer across her palm.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she whispered. She was watching me again, her eyes as light as I'd ever seen them, like pale honey. "It's still so strange for me, not knowing."

"Everyone else feels the same way."

"It's a hard life," she said, forlorn. "But you didn't tell me."

"I was wishing I could know what you were thinking …"

"And?"

"I was still wondering how someone like you could exist. I'm afraid..."

"I don't want you to be afraid." Her voice was just a low murmur. I knew that she thought I was afraid of what _she_ might do.

"That's not the kind of fear I meant." But how could I possibly tell her about my nightmare? How could I tell her that I wasn't afraid of her, but _for_ her?

So quickly that I missed the movement completely, she was half-sitting, propped up on her right arm, her left palm still in my hands. Her angelic face was only a few inches from mine. I should have leaned away. I was supposed to be careful.

Her honey eyes burned.

"Then what are you afraid of?" she whispered.

I couldn't answer. I smelled her sweet, cool breath in my face, like before. Unthinkingly, I leaned closer, inhaling.

And she was gone, her hand ripped from mine so fast that they stung. In the time it took my eyes to focus, she was six meters away, standing at the edge of the small meadow, deep in the shade of a huge fir tree. She stared at me, her expression unreadable.

I could feel the shock on my face, and my hands burned.

"I'm sorry, that was stupid."

"Give me a moment," she said, just loud enough for me to hear.

I sat as still as possible.

After ten long seconds, she walked back slowly. She stopped when she was still a few meters away and sank gracefully to the ground, crossing her legs underneath her. Her eyes never left mine. She took two deep breaths, then smiled apologetically.

"I am so very sorry." She hesitated. "Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?"

I nodded, though I wasn't sure how to respond. Her smile turned mocking.

"Am I not the world's best predator? Everything about me invites you in – my voice, my face, my smell. Even _you_ couldn't resist me for long!" She laughed. "As if any of that even mattered."

Suddenly she was just a blur. I blinked and she'd vanished; then she was standing beneath the same tree as before, having circled the entire meadow in a fraction of a second

"As if you could outrun me," she said bitterly.

She leaped four meters straight up, grabbing a half-meter-thick branch and wrenching it away from the trunk without any sign of effort. She was back on the ground in the same instant, balancing the huge, gnarled lance in one hand for just a second. Then with blinding speed she swung it – one-handed – like a bat at the tree she'd ripped it from.

With an explosive boom, both the branch and the tree shattered in half.

Before I even had time to shy away from the detonation, before the tree could even fall to the ground, she was right in front of me again, just two feet away, still as a sculpture.

"As if you could fight me off," she said softly. Behind her, the sound of the tree crashing to the earth echoed through the forest.

I'd never seen her so completely free of her human façade. She'd never been less human…or more beautiful. I was utterly transfixed by the sight of her.

Her eyes seemed to glow with excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. Her expression slowly folded into a mask of sadness. She looked like she was about to cry, and I sat up, one hand reaching toward her.

She held out her hand, cautioning me. "Wait."

I froze again.

She took one step toward me. "Don't be afraid," she murmured, her velvet voice unintentionally seductive. "I promise …" She hesitated. "I swear I will not hurt you." She seemed like she was trying to convince herself as much as me.

"You don't have to be afraid," she whispered again as she stepped closer with exaggerated slowness. She stopped just a foot away and gently touched her hand to the one I still had stretched toward her. I wrapped my hand around hers tightly.

"Please forgive me," she said in a formal tone. "I can control myself. You caught me off guard. I'm on my best behavior now."

She waited for me to respond, but I just knelt there in front of her, staring, my thoughts incoherent.

"I'm not thirsty today, honestly." She winked.

"That's … good to know," I said reluctantly, and she laughed.

"Are you all right?" she asked, reaching out, slowly, carefully – to put her other hand on top of mine.

I looked at her smooth, marble hand, and then at her eyes. They were soft, repentant, but I could see some of the sadness still in them.

I smiled at her reassuringly (at least I hoped it was). Her answering smile was dazzling.

With a deliberately unhurried, sinuous movement, she sank down, curling her legs beneath her. I copied her unceremoniously, until we were sitting facing each other, knees touching, our hands still wrapped together between us.

"So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?"

"I have no idea."

She smiled, but her face was ashamed. "I think we were talking about why you were afraid, besides the obvious reason."

"Oh, right."

"Well?"

I looked down at our hands, turning mine so that the light would glisten across hers.

"How easily frustrated I am," she sighed.

I looked into her eyes, suddenly realizing that this was every bit as new to her as it was to me. That made me just a little braver.

"I was afraid … because for, obvious reasons, I probably can't stay with you, can I? And that's what I want, more than anything else in the world." That, at least, was true.

"Yes," she agreed slowly. "Being with me has never been in your best interest."

I frowned.

"I should have left that first day and not come back. I should leave now." She shook her head. "I might have been able to do it then. I don't know how to do it now."

"Then stop trying," I said firmly.

Her face turned brittle. "Don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."

"'Should' is open to interpretation."

She glared, carefully extricating her hands from mine and then folding them across her chest. Her voice was harsher when she spoke again.

"You should never forget that it's not only your company I crave. Never forget that I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else." She stared unseeingly into the forest.

"Anyone else?" I asked uncertainly.

She looked back and smiled at me, her unpredictable mood shifting again.

"How do I explain? And without horrifying you?"

Without seeming to think about it, she placed her hand back in mine. I held it tightly. She looked at our hands.

"That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth."

A moment passed while she seemed to be arranging her thoughts.

"You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?" she began. "Some people love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?"

I nodded. "My personal favorite is caramel."

She grinned. "Maybe that's not the best analogy." Her smile faded, and she seemed lost in thought.

"I hope this … won't come out as offensive, and I don't mean to pry, but – what did it feel like, when you … did heroin?"

I hesitated.

"I apologize," she said quickly. "I should never have –"

"No, it's ok," I said. " It felt – great, really. At first, anyway. I loved the sensation, the high, the feeling that nothing in the world could hurt me. There's a reason it's called _hero_ ine. Later on I couldn't help myself; I needed the drug just to stay functional. It was almost impossible to let it go. But if you don't mind me asking," I added with a smile, "how is that relevant to our conversation? Wait, don't tell me. Are you saying I'm like your brand of heroin?"

She smiled ruefully. "Yes, that is exactly what you are."

I thought about that for a moment. "Is that really what it feels like?"

"I think so. The first few times you can walk away, but after that…" She stared at me pleadingly. "How did you do it? How did you overcome your addiction? Maybe I can learn something from you."

I smirked. "I don't want to give you any ideas. What if _you_ end up a heroin addict?"

She rolled her eyes. "That wouldn't even be physically possible."

I sighed. "I don't know. Willpower, I guess. I convinced myself that I wasn't addicted, which helped, as counterintuitive as that sounds. But it's not something you can teach." And thank God; if she overcame her "addiction" and ran away for good, who knows what I would end up doing?

"But," I added, "if I'm as appealing to you as you say I am, then you've done a better job than you're giving yourself credit for."

She gave me a dark look. "It took everything I had – every single year of practice and effort and sacrifice – not to jump in the middle of that class full of children and – " She broke off, her eyes darting away from me. "When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carine built for us, right then and there."

She stared at me grimly, both of us remembering.

"You must have thought I was possessed."

"I couldn't understand why. How you could hate someone you'd never met …"

"To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin … I thought it would drive me insane the first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought them back, thinking of my family, what I could do to them. But it helped," she added with a humorless smile, "that it was you. I knew I wouldn't be able to outsmart you easily. I'd either have to take care of everyone else in the classroom or wait until you went home."

She frowned at our hands. "And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, there you were – in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there, easily dealt with.

I remembered Mr. Cope and realized just how close I'd been to getting him killed. I flinched at the thought.

She continued. She told me about her trip to Alaska and the shame of leaving her family behind, of all the precautions she'd taken before returning to Forks, and of reading Jeremy's unoriginal mind to learn more about me.

"I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you like I would any other person. I was eager, actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. And yet despite, or perhaps because of, your rebukes, I found that I couldn't stop thinking about you … and every now and then you would move and the air would stir around you … The scent would stun me again…."

"Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes. Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment – because if I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we were. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think about was, _not him_."

She shut her eyes, her expression agonized. For a long moment she was silent. I waited patiently for her to continue.

"In the hospital?" I prompted.

Her eyes flashed up to mine. "I was appalled. I couldn't believe I had put us in danger after all, put myself in your power – you of all people. As if I needed another motive to kill you." We both flinched as that word slipped out, and she continued quickly. "You'd tried your best to convince me that you hadn't seen anything unusual. I'd almost believed you, but the rest of my family knew better. I fought with Royal, El, and Jessamine when they suggested that now was the time … the worst fight we've ever had. Carine sided with me, and Archie." Her expression suddenly became wistful. I wasn't sure why. "Earnest told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay." She shook her head, a little indulgent smile on her lips.

"All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you'd kept your word. I didn't understand you at all. But I knew that I couldn't become more involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far from you as possible. And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath …it hit me as hard as the very first day."

She met my eyes again, and hers were oddly tender.

"And for all that," she continued, "I'd have fared better if I had exposed us all at that first moment, than if now, here, - with no witnesses and nothing to stop me – I were to hurt you."

Wrong, I thought despairingly. There _are_ witnesses, and there's no telling what they might do.

"Why?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the thought.

"Oh, Beau." She touched my cheekbone lightly with her fingertips. A shock ran through me at this casual contact. "Beau, I couldn't survive hurting you. You don't know how it's tortured me" – she looked down, ashamed again – "the thought of you, still, white, cold … to never see your face turn red again, to never again see that penetrating stare and realize you'd seen right through my pretenses … I couldn't bear it." She lifted her glorious, agonized eyes to mine. "You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever."

My head was spinning at this rapid change in direction. Just minutes ago I'd thought we were talking about my imminent death. Now, suddenly, we were making declarations.

I gripped her hand tighter, staring into her golden eyes.

"You already know how I feel. I don't know what I would do without you." I smiled. " The fact that I'm here just goes to show how much of an idiot I am."

"Agreed," she said, laughing, and I laughed with her, the memory of Sirius forgotten. This whole situation was idiocy – and impossibility and magic.

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb," she murmured.

"No offense, but I prefer to think of myself as a goat."

She burst out laughing, harder than before. I tried to keep a straight face, but gave up and laughed again.

Her smile faded. "I hate having to bring this up now, but I need to know. Why did you leave Phoenix?"

I grimaced. "It's a long story."

She gave me an encouraging smile.

I sighed. "It's not always easy being the smartest kid in school. I found that out the hard way. I was always getting picked on, and it became worse when I got older. The teachers were just as bad; the nicer ones didn't care, but a lot of them seemed to get a thrill out of putting me down. There was only one person who stood up for me, one person who thought of me as a friend." I felt a pang of nostalgia; Manuel had been my only childhood friend, and I would probably never see him again.

"The other kids knew better than to mess with me when he was around." I smiled, remembering one particular incident involving a wedgie he'd given to Nathan. "I remember I was always helping him do his homework. We'd sometimes go eat guasanas at his parents' house. It's a Mexican snack," I explained, seeing Edythe's confused expression. "Dried chickpeas, I think."

"But it didn't last. He left when I was thirteen, after his dad lost his job. I haven't seen him since."

I didn't want to go on anymore. I wished the story had ended there, that Manuel's departure had been the worst thing that happened to me in the last four years.

But wishing didn't change anything. I stared up at the sunlit sky and continued.

"I was alone again. Suddenly all the snobby kids realized nobody was going to defend the nerdy kid who lived with his mom. It got so bad eventually I decided I wasn't going to take it anymore. So I … made new friends. I joined a gang of people like me, people who didn't know where they belonged." I smiled coldly. "I got revenge after that."

Edythe narrowed her eyes. "What did you do?" she asked warily.

"We went around, robbing the rich, the same bastards who'd made my life a living hell. On our way out, I'd leave behind a little gift."

Edythe didn't seem to like where this was going at all. "What kind of 'gift'"?

"I'd set off an explosive, to destroy any evidence of what we stole. Of course, we always made sure no one else was around; we were looking to steal, not kill. Things went well for a while. I finally felt like I was where I belonged. But again, it didn't last. One by one, everyone in my gang got arrested. Everyone, that is, except me."

My voice darkened. "When I was walking home from school one day, one of the kids we stole from was waiting for me. He said he'd figured out I was the one who'd bombed his place. He said – he said that getting locked up was too good for me, that he was going to find a more permanent solution."

Edythe gasped, but I ignored her. "He pulled out a knife and said 'nobody will remember you anyway'. We fought in an alley; nobody was watching us. I didn't want to kill him, but I didn't see any other way; I couldn't outrun him. I finally wrenched the knife from him and stabbed him in the chest."

I closed my eyes, wishing I could bury the memory someplace I would never find it.

"I ran home. I don't know how much time I spent there, crying. All I knew was that I couldn't let my mom see me like this. Nobody found out who did it, nobody knew except for me. I started doing heroin after that, trying to bury the memory. It worked, for a while. But even illegal narcotics can't take away the pain forever." I wiped away a tear, unwilling to look at her.

"I realized just how screwed-up my life had become. Here I was, a murderer and a heroin addict with no friends and no one who cares about him except his parents. What was the point of it all? I had nothing left. The kid in the alley had been right; nobody would remember me. I certainly didn't want to remember them. So I tried taking my own life. I would have succeeded if my mom hadn't –"

"Please, Beau, no more," Edythe said, her voice choked with sadness.

"I'm sorry," I said, sorrowful. "But I warned you that you wouldn't like the real me." How could she? I was a criminal.

"You're wrong," she said vehemently. "It wasn't your fault." She looked down apologetically. " I shouldn't have asked –"

"No," I said. "You deserved to know. And I'm glad I could finally share my life story with someone, even if it's a little more than you bargained for." I was silent for a moment. "But I guess ... the only thing left for me is to move on."

"Yes," she said, after a while. "It was selfish of me to make you relive the experience. It's only fair I make it up to you."

"What do you have in mind?" I asked curiously. I noticed it was getting darker – we didn't have much time left.

She grinned. "How about a faster way to the truck?"

If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn she read my mind. "Ok, what have you got?"

She was on her feet in another invisibly fast motion. She offered me her hand, and I jumped next to her. She whirled around and looked back at me over her shoulder.

"Climb on my back."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Don't be a coward, Beau. I promise this won't hurt."

She stood there waiting with her back toward me, completely serious.

"Edythe, I don't… I mean, _how_?"

She spun back to me, one eyebrow raised. "Surely you're familiar with the concept of a piggyback ride?"

"Sure, but …"

"What's the problem, then?"

Oh, what the hell. "Ok, fine."

Glad she couldn't see just how embarrassed I was, I hesitantly put my arms around her neck, trying not to think about just how ridiculous I was going to look.

"Come on," she said impatiently. She reached back with one hand and grabbed my leg, yanking my knee up past her hip.

"Whoa!"

But she already had my other leg, and instead of toppling backward, she easily supported my weight. She moved my legs into position around her waist. My face was burning, and I knew I must look like a gorilla on a greyhound.

As awkward as I felt, I was also keenly aware of my arms and legs wrapped tightly around her slender body.

Suddenly she grabbed my hand and pressed my palm to her face. She inhaled deeply.

"Easier all the time," she said.

And then she ran.

She streaked through the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that her feet ever touched the ground. Her breathing never changed, never indicated any effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by centimeters.

I was too shocked to close my eyes, though the cool air whipped against my face and burned them. Vaguely I wondered if this is what skydiving felt like.

Then it was over. We'd hiked hours this morning to reach Edythe's meadow, and now, in a matter of minutes – no, seconds – we were back to the truck.

"Exhilarating, isn't it?" Her voice was high, excited.

She stood motionless, waiting for me to unwind my legs and step away from her. After a while, I did, and I collapsed unceremoniously to the ground. I lay there, gasping for air.

"Beau?" she asked anxiously.

"That – that was fantastic!" I grinned at her.

She smiled. "I had a feeling you'd like it." She leaned closer, her face just centimeters from mine. Her beauty never failed to stun me; I didn't think I'd ever get used to it.

"I was thinking, while I was running, about something I wanted to try."

She put her hands on my face.

I couldn't breathe.

She hesitated. It felt like a test, making sure that this was safe, that she was still in control of herself.

And then her cold, perfect lips pressed very softly against mine.

Neither of us was ready for my reaction.

Blood boiled under my skin, burned in my lips. My breath came out in a wild gasp. My fingers tangled in her hair, locking her face to mine. My lips opened as I breathed in her heady scent.

Immediately, she turned to unresponsive stone beneath my lips. Her hands gently, but forcibly, pushed my face back. I opened my eyes and saw her expression.

"Oops," I said.

"That's an understatement."

Her eyes were wild, her jaw clenched in restraint. My face was still just centimeters from hers, my fingers twisted through her hair.

"Should I …?" I tried to disengage myself, to give her some room.

Her hands didn't release me.

"No, it's tolerable. Wait for a moment, please." Her voice was polite, controlled.

I kept my eyes on hers, watching as the excitement in them faded and gentled.

She grinned. "There."

"Tolerable?" I asked.

She laughed. "I'm stronger than I thought. It's nice to know."

"I guess so."

She freed her hair from my fingers, and then she was on her feet in one lithe move. She held her hand out again, and I took it, pulling myself up. I wobbled slightly as I took a step away from her.

"Did my kiss affect you that much?" She seemed very human as she laughed now, careless and lighthearted. She was a new Edythe, different than the one I'd known, and I was even more besotted by her. What had I ever done to deserve such a magnificent creature?

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should let me drive."

"I don't know. You tend to be more than a little reckless …"

"I can drive better than you on your best day," she said. "You have much slower reflexes."

"I believe you, but I don't think my truck could handle your driving."

"Some trust, please, Beau."

My hand curled around the key in my pocket. I pursed my lips. "Very well." I was starting to realize I was increasingly unable to resist her in anything. And in any case, she was right about having better reflexes.

A/N 2 - There were certain scenes in this chapter that I wish I could have included (from the original) but which I ultimately chose to leave out since I thought it inappropriate for this story. For Beau, I think, the most important thing is that Edythe accepts him for who he is, and that means everything to him. Anyway, I hope you liked it.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

A/N – I'm even more late than usual. If this keeps up, I might eventually update on Tuesday. Anyway, now that spring break is here, I hope I can get a little more done. As always, thanks for reading!

Her driving was just fine, I had to admit – when she kept the speed reasonable. Like so many other things, it seemed to be effortless for her. She barely looked at the road, yet the truck was always perfectly centered in her lane. She drove one-handed, because I was holding her other hand between us. Sometimes she gazed into the setting sun, which glittered off her skin in ruby-tinged shimmers. Sometimes she glanced at me – stared into my eyes or looked down at our hands intertwined.

She had tuned the radio to an oldies station, where, to my surprise, I heard Johnny Cash's bass-baritone voice singing "Walk the Line". My mother would always play Johnny Cash's songs ever since I was eight, and as Edythe sang along, her perfect voice an octave higher, I found myself joining her.

 _Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you_

 _Because you're mine, I walk the line._

"I didn't know you liked Cash," I said, smiling.

"I could say the same," she replied with a smirk. "I like most music from the fifties. Much better than the sixties, or the seventies, ugh!" She shuddered delicately. "The eighties were bearable."

I stared at her. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you a Republican?"

She grinned. "Not really, but I tend to be old-fashioned when it comes to music."

Not just music. "And just how old are you, if I may ask?"

I hoped my question wouldn't ruin the mood, but she just smiled.

"Does it matter very much?"

"I just want to know everything about you."

"I wonder if it will upset you," she said to herself. She stared straight into the sun; a minute passed.

"Try me," I finally said.

She looked into my eyes, seeming to forget the road completely for a while. Whatever she saw must have encouraged her. She turned to face the last blood-red rays of the setting sun and sighed.

"I was born in Chicago in 1901." She paused and glanced at me from the corner of her eye. I tried not to look surprised, but failed miserably.

"See?" she said. "I knew it would – "

"Upset me? Well, I can't say I was expecting it, but it's – well – fascinating. Please go on, and don't mind me."

She smiled and and continued. "Carine found me in a hospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and I was dying of the Spanish influenza."

She looked up into my eyes, expecting another surprised reaction, but I was much more composed. I gazed at her sympathetically and waited for the rest.

"I don't remember it very well. It was a long time ago, and human memories fade." She seemed lost in thought for a minute, but before I could prompt her, she went on. "I do remember how it felt when Carine saved me. It's not an easy thing, not something you could forget."

"And your parents?"

"They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That's why she chose me. In the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize that I was gone."

"How did she … save you?"

A few seconds passed, and when she spoke again she seemed to be choosing her words very carefully.

"It was difficult. Not very many of us have the necessary restraint to do it. But Carine has always been the most humane, the most compassionate of all of us … I don't think you could find her equal anywhere in history." She paused. "For me, it was merely very, very painful."

She set her jaw, and I could tell she wasn't going to say anything more about it. That was fine; I wasn't sure I wanted to know. And I wasn't sure I found Carine to be as humane as she did; after all, Edythe never asked to be transformed. Had Edythe known what would happen, would she have chosen differently?

Her soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "She acted from loneliness. I was the first in Carine's family, though she found Earnest soon after. He fell from a cliff. They took him straight to the hospital morgue, though somehow his heart was still beating."

"So you have to be dying?"

"No, that's just Carine. She would never do that to someone who had another choice, any other choice." _Except death_ , I thought. The respect in her voice was profound whenever she spoke of her adoptive mother. "It is easier, she says, though, if the heart is weak."

She continued, explaining how the rest of her family came together. I listened intently throughout as she told me about their various adventures, including Royal's encounter with Eleanor, and Archie's ability to see the future, which allowed him to know that he would find Jessamine.

"Are there a lot of … your kind?" I was surprised. How many of them could walk around with us all completely oblivious? Well, except for a few…

"No, not many. But most won't settle in any one place. Only those like us, who've given up hunting you people" – a sly glance in my direction – " can live together with humans for any length of time. We've only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live … differently, tend to band together."

Sirius's words rang in my head. _They're far more civilized than the rest of their kind, though that's not saying much_. "And the others?"

"Nomads, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North."

I wondered why that was. Either they liked cold weather or – that's it. They preferred sunless climates since it allowed them to come out during the day without being … conspicuous. It was the logical explanation.

We were parked in front of my house now, and she turned off the truck. The silence that followed its roar felt intense. It was very dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off; apparently Charlie wasn't home yet.

"So where did Archie come from?" I asked. I remembered he'd been the only one to stand up for me when I confronted Royal in the cafeteria.

"We honestly don't know. Archie doesn't remember his human life at all. And he doesn't know who created him. He awoke alone. Whoever made him walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. If Archie hadn't had that other sense, if he hadn't seen Jessamine and Carine and known that he would someday become one of us, he probably would have turned into a total savage."

I tried my best to push that image away. There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But just then my stomach growled. I'd been so lost in our conversation that I hadn't even noticed I was hungry. But I was not starving, I reminded myself. Only poverty-stricken children in third-world countries were starving.

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from dinner."

"I'm fine, really."

"I don't spend a lot of time around people who eat food. I forget."

"That can wait," I said. "I'd rather stay out here with you."

"Can't I come in?"

"Of course," I replied, thrilled that she'd finally enter my humble abode and hoping she wouldn't be too disappointed.

She entered my house and turned on the lights almost as soon as I climbed out of my truck.

She met me at the door. It was so surreal to see her inside my house, framed by the boring physical details of my humdrum life. I tried to think of something entertaining to do, but couldn't come up with anything. At least not something I was willing to ask…

"You're hungry, right?" she asked, interrupting my thoughts. She led the way to the kitchen, as if she'd been here a million times before. She turned on the kitchen light and sat in my dad's kitchen chair. Suddenly the place didn't look so dingy anymore. But that was probably because I couldn't really look at anything but her. I stood there for a moment, trying to wrap my mind around her presence, surrounded by the mundane.

"Eat something, Beau."

I nodded and turned to scavenge. There was lasagna left over from last night. I put a square on a plate and set it in the microwave. I was tempted to eat all of it, but I wanted to leave some for my dad. My stomach, meanwhile, kept growling.

"Hmm," she said.

"What is it?"

"I'm going to have to do a better job in the future."

I chuckled. "What could you possibly do better than you already do?"

"Remember that you're human. I should have, I don't know, packed a picnic or something today."

The microwave dinged and I pulled the plate out, then set it down quickly when it burned my hand.

"Don't worry about it."

I found a fork and started eating. I was _really_ hungry. The first bite scalded my mouth, but I kept chewing.

"Does that taste good?" she asked.

I swallowed. "Sort of. It's hard to tell, since I think I just burned off my taste buds."

We talked in the meantime about what aspects of her former human life. She missed. She insisted she didn't really miss anything, since she couldn't remember what anything had been like.

"But there are things I think I'd like. I suppose things you could say I was jealous of."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Sleep is one. Never-ending consciousness gets tedious. I think I'd enjoy temporary oblivion. It looks interesting."

I ate a few bites, thinking. "It sounds difficult. What do you do all night?"

She hesitated, then pursed her lips. "Do you mean in general?"

She was obviously hiding something. I chose my words carefully. "No, you don't have to be general. Just tell me what you do on a typical night, like, say, today."

She didn't seem to like the question, and I was suddenly afraid I was going to make her leave. Stupid me. But then her eyes flashed to my face and away, clearly uncomfortable.

"What?"

She made a face. "Do you want a pleasant lie or a possibly disturbing truth?"

"Is it too much to ask for both?"

She rolled her eyes. "Really, Beau?"

"Alright," I said. "The truth."

She sighed. "I'll come back here after you and your father are asleep. It's sort of my routine lately."

I blinked, slowly realizing what that meant.

"You come _here_?"

"Almost every night."

"Since when?" I asked, appalled. She was right; it _was_ disturbing. But even aside from that, I couldn't fathom why she would do such a thing.

She watched my reaction, staring up at me apprehensively from under her lashes. "For a while," she admitted. "You're angry with me, aren't you?"

"No, of course not," I replied sarcastically. "Why would I be? Watching other people sleep is a perfectly normal thing to do." First Sirius, and now this. How many people were spying on me, monitoring my every move?"

She put her hand on my cheek. The blood under her fingers felt burning hot next to her cold hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm. I promise, I was very much in control of myself. I'd have left if I thought there was any danger. But I won't do it again, if it makes you uncomfortable."

I sighed. It did make me uncomfortable, but I couldn't deny that a part of me didn't mind, that wanted her to, even. "I still don't understand why.

"You're interesting when you sleep," she said casually. "You talk."

I was curious in spite of myself. "About what?"

She smiled. "You miss your mother, whenever you're not busy solving linear differential equations or thinking about non-Euclidean geometry." She laughed softly, hoping not to offend me again.

"Anything else?" I demanded.

She knew what I was getting at. "You did say my name," she admitted.

"A lot?" I asked, embarrassed.

"Define 'a lot'."

That told me all I needed to know.

Like it was easy, natural, she put her arms around my shoulders and leaned her head against my chest. Automatically, my arms came up to wrap around her. To hold her there.

"There was something I was meaning to ask you," she said. "It was about one of your dreams, though frankly it seemed more like a nightmare."

Oh, no. How much did she hear?

"You called my name in fear, and you kept saying, "don't hurt her"." She frowned. "Can I ask who else was there?"

"It was just a dream," I said dismissively, hoping she would drop the subject.

"It was McKayla, wasn't it?" she asked sadly. "I went after her in the dream."

I could barely contain my surprise.

"Yes," I said reluctantly. "I was afraid – that you – look, it was just a stupid dream. It didn't mean anything." I stroked her hair, hoping to defuse the tension.

"I know you would never hurt her, and I'm not ashamed over dreaming about you," I said firmly. That, at least, was true. I felt ashamed over lying to her about the rest, but I knew there was no other way.

She hummed, almost like a purr, her cheek pressed over my heart.

Then we both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw the headlights flash through the front windows, down the hall to us. I jumped, and dropped my arms as she pulled away.

"Do you want your father to know that I'm here?" she asked.

"Of course not! Why would you even –"

"Another time, then …"

And I was alone.

"Edythe?" I whispered.

I heard a quiet laugh, and then nothing else.

My father's key turned in the door.

"Beau?" he called. I remember finding that funny before; who else would it be? Yet now it was entirely appropriate.

"I'm here."

Was my voice too agitated? I took the last bit of lasagna on my plate so I could be chewing when he came in. His footsteps sounded particularly noisy compared to Edythe's.

"Did you take all the lasagna?" he asked, looking at my plate.

"Of course not," I replied with mock-indignation. "How greedy do you think I am?"

He chuckled. "Ok, then." He went to the refrigerator to get the leftover lasagna (which wasn't a whole lot, I had to admit). Meanwhile, I was thinking about what Edythe had just said – _Do you want your father to know that I'm here_? As opposed to _Do you want your father to know that I was here_? Which meant she hadn't actually left. This should be interesting.

Charlie sat in the chair across from me. It was hard to imagine Edythe sitting in the same place just minutes ago. Suddenly I realized what he was going to ask, and my heart sank.

"So what happened? I thought you were going to the dance?" He didn't seem hostile, only curious.

I hesitated. Oh well; the cat was out of the bag anyway. I would have had to tell him the truth eventually. "I was, but McKayla and I … we broke up."

His mouth dropped. "What?"

"It was my fault," I admitted, dejected. "She noticed I was making eyes at another girl. She asked me if I was serious about our relationship, and I told her that I was. But she didn't believe me, and today she told me that I shouldn't keep pretending I still liked her." It was the truth, sort of.

Charlie was shocked. "So are you – still talking to each other?"

"Yeah. We're still friends. And she found someone else to take her to the dance." At least I hoped so. "But I didn't feel comfortable going knowing that we'd just broken up. So here I am."

Charlie shook his head. "I can't say I'm proud of what you did. But the girl you were 'making eyes' with, did she go to the dance?"

"No," I said, trying to suppress a smile even as I realized that told him all he needed to know.

"And can I ask who it is?"

I couldn't help it; I smiled. "You'll find out soon."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you're going out with _someone_."

"So am I. I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Night, Beau." As I walked up the stairs, I thought I heard him mutter ''adolescents" under his breath, but I wasn't sure.

I shut my bedroom door, then walked towards the window. I carefully shoved it open and leaned out into the dark. I relaxed, staring at the treetops, feeling the wind against my face. I guess I'd been wrong about Edythe after all. Ah well; I suppose I could wait until tomorrow –

"Are you going to stand there all night?" Her amused voice came from directly behind me.

I spun around so fast I knocked a book off my desk. It fell with a thud to the floor.

She was lying across my bed, hands behind her head, ankles crossed, smiling. She looked the color of frost in the darkness.

I stared at her, feeling disoriented. "How did you – never mind."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Just give me a minute."

She sat up slowly and dangled her legs over the edge of the bed. She patted the space next to her.

I walked unsteadily to the bed and sat down beside her. She put her hand on mine.

"How's your heart?"

"You tell me – I'm sure you hear it better than I do."

She laughed quietly.

We sat there for a moment in silence, both listening to my heartbeat slow.

I thought about Edythe in my room … and my father's interrogation … and my lasagna breath.

"Can I have a minute to be human?"

"Certainly."

I looked at her perfectly still form on the edge of my bed, and briefly wondered if I was hallucinating everything.

I grabbed my pajamas and hurried to the bathroom, banging the door so Charlie would know it was occupied.

I brushed my teeth twice. Then I washed my face and traded clothes. I always wore a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt I'd bought just before coming to Forks that said, _I'm not sleeping. I'm just resting with my eyes closed._

I used my dad's mouthwash, just to be safe.

When I was finally ready, I opened the door and walked into my room, glad that the bed wasn't visible from where Charlie was standing, then shut the door behind me.

Edythe hadn't moved even a centimeter. I smiled and her lips twitched; she relaxed, and she was suddenly human again. Or close enough. I went back to sit next to her. She twisted to face me, pulling her legs up and crossing them.

"I like the shirt," she said, smiling. "It suits you." Her voice was so quiet I knew Charlie couldn't hear.

I reached out to hold her hand. It felt natural, but at the same time, I couldn't believe just how fortunate I was. What had I ever done to deserve this?

"Your dad isn't sure what to make of your little story, and to be honest I don't either." She sounded amused. "He's thinking of talking to her parents."

"Great. Thank you, by the way. For staying."

"It's what I wanted, too."

My heart started beating … not faster, exactly, but stronger somehow. For some reason I would never understand, and after everything I'd put her through, she wanted to be with me.

Moving at human speed, she unfolded her legs and draped them across mine. Then she curled up against my chest again the way she seemed to prefer, with her ear against my heart. I folded my arms around her and pressed my lips to her hair.

"Mmm," she hummed.

"This seems to be getting easier for you," I murmured.

Her arms slid over my shoulders and then wrapped around my neck. She pulled herself up until her lips were brushing my ear.

"Why do you think that is?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

"Mind over matter," she breathed right into my ear.

As I pondered that, she climbed back to her original position. My arms weren't willing to let her go. As she slid out of them, my hands stayed on her hips.

"Your whole body is shivering," she said.

I hadn't even realized, having been so caught up in the moment. "I'm fine," I insisted.

We looked at each other for a second in the dark.

"I'm not sure what I'm allowed to do," I admitted. "How careful do I need to be?"

She hesitated. "It's not easier," she said finally. Her hand brushed across my forearm. "But this afternoon … I was still undecided. I'm sorry, it was unforgivable for me to behave as I did."

"I forgive you," I murmured. "See, I just proved you wrong."

"Thank you." She smiled, then turned serious as she looked at my arm. "You see … I wasn't sure if I was strong enough … " She lifted my hand and pressed it to her cheek, still looking down. "And while there was still that possibility that I might be … overcome" – she breathed in the scent at my wrist – "I was … susceptible. Until I made up my mind that I was strong enough, that there was no possibility at all that I would … that I ever could …"

I'd never seen her struggle so hard for words. It was such a human thing to do.

"So there's no possibility now?"

She looked up at me and smiled. "Mind over matter."

"It has a psychic ring to it," I teased. "So I guess it suits you particularly well."

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe. But it'll be harder tomorrow. I've had the scent of you in my head all day, and I've grown amazingly desensitized. If I'm away from you for any length of time, I'll have to start over again. Not quite from scratch, though, I think."

"Then never go away."

Her face relaxed. "That suits me. Bring on the shackles – I am your prisoner." Somehow I found that mental image far more pleasing than I should have.

While she spoke, she laced her cold fingers around my wrist like a manacle. "And now, if you don't mind, may I borrow a blanket?"

"Are you cold?" I asked innocently.

"Very funny."

I reached behind her with my free hand and snagged the old quilt that was folded over the foot of my bed, then offered it to her. She dropped my wrist, took the blanket and shook it out, then handed it back to me.

"I'd be happier if I knew you were comfortable."

"I'm _very_ comfortable." I didn't think I could be _more_ comfortable at this point. But I did as she asked.

She was on her feet, rearranging the blanket over my legs and pulling it all the way up to my shoulders. Before I could understand what she was doing, she had climbed onto my lap again and nestled against my chest. The quilt made a barrier between any place that our skin might touch.

"Better?" she asked.

"No. But it'll do."

She laughed.

"It's so strange," she said. "You read about something … you hear about it in other people's minds, you watch it happen to them … and it doesn't prepare you even in the slightest for experiencing it yourself. The glory of first love. It's more than I was expecting."

"Much more," I agreed fervently.

"And other emotions, too – jealousy, for example. I thought I understood that one clearly. I've read about it a hundred thousand times, seen actors portray it in just as many plays and movies, listened to it in the minds around me daily – even felt it myself in a shallow way, wishing I had what I didn't … But I was _shocked_." She scowled. "Do you remember the day that McKayla asked you to the dance?"

I nodded, feeling flustered, wondering why I'd ever accepted to go.

"I was stunned by the flare of resentment, almost fury, that I felt – I didn't recognize what it was at first. I didn't know jealousy could be so powerful … so painful. And then you agreed, which made it a thousand times worse. I tried to convince myself that it was for the best, that I had no right to care what you did with your life."

"And then the line started forming."

I shook my head at the memory, and she chuckled.

"I waited," she went on, "anxious to hear what you would say to them, even knowing you'd already chosen McKayla. I didn't know if you'd chosen her out of genuine interest or simply because she'd been the first one to ask. But I knew that you would refuse me, just like you refused the rest of them, because you thought I was insane. It nearly _did_ drive me insane, thinking about it …"

She looked up at me. "That was the first night I came here. I wrestled all night, watching you sleep, with the chasm between what I knew was right, and what I wanted. I knew that you wanted to live a normal life alongside someone human, but I simply couldn't bear the thought."

"And then" – her voice dropped to an even quieter whisper – "as you were sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly, at first I thought you'd woken. But you rolled over restlessly and mumbled my name again. The emotion that coursed through me then was unnerving … staggering. And, try as I might, I couldn't ignore you any longer."

She was quiet for a moment, probably listening to the uneven pounding of my heart. "I struggled so much to stay away from you." She smiled. "One would think that your barbed comments would have been enough. Eleanor even called me a masochist for wanting to be with you. But none of that mattered. I could not convince myself that you truly had feelings for that girl. What I didn't know was whether you had feelings for me." Her smile turned into a grin. "It wasn't until that little stunt you pulled at the cafeteria that I finally had an answer to that question."

"I didn't want to acknowledge it at first," I said. "But the only reason why I was with McKayla was because I couldn't be with you – because I'd convinced myself that I could never be with you." I smirked. "But I can tell you now, you have absolutely no reason to be jealous of her. If anything, I should be jealous of Royal. How am I supposed to compete with Prince Charming, especially after knowing he was meant for you?"

She laughed softly. "There's no competition. Trust me, you are everything he isn't. Even if he didn't belong with Eleanor, he could never hold even a hundredth of the attraction you hold for me." She was serious now, thoughtful. "For almost ninety years I've walked among my kind, and yours … all the time thinking I was complete in myself, not realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because you weren't alive yet."

"Well, we found each other, so at least neither of us has to keep looking. Just think of all the people out there who look for true love and never find it after a lifetime of searching."

"Yes," she said. "I suppose we're both fortunate."

I felt so incredibly lucky to be alive. No amount of heroin could ever make me feel like this. It was utter and complete bliss. Then she began humming a melody I didn't recognize; it sounded like a lullaby. She paused. "Should I sing you to sleep?"

"I can't say I'm really in the mood for that right now," I replied dryly.

"Very well. So if you don't want to sleep, what do you want to do, then?"

"Honestly? A lot of things. Most of them not age-appropriate ."

I went on quickly before she could reply. "But since I don't wish to tempt fate, what I'd like is … to know more about you."

"Ask me anything." I could tell she was smiling now.

We talked about her and her family. How different they were from the rest of their kind, and their various peculiarities. We spoke about evolution and creation (my mind was already decided on that issue, but I listened carefully). I found all of it fascinating, but there was one question that I'd been meaning to ask, a question I desperately needed answered more than any other.

"So," I began. "I'd never gotten around to asking you what other mythical creatures there might be out there. It was my fault; I should never have been that rude. But I'd like for us to resume that conversation, if that's okay with you."

"Well," she said. "There aren't any dragons, unfortunately, at least not that I know of." She laughed. "But there are … others." She hesitated. "I suppose you could consider them our mortal enemies. We call them _children of the moon._ "

"What are they, exactly?" I asked, unable to hide my eagerness.

"They're werewolves, but they only transform at night, during the full moon. When they're transformed, they're easily as fast and strong as any vampire. They're not very social, however, even in their human form, usually spending most of their time hunting alone. They have very little self-control, which is what makes them so dangerous, but at the same time, is their biggest weakness."

"And what should I do if I ever come across one of them?" I asked.

Her eyes widened in fear. "You run! Run as fast as you can in the other direction and pray you aren't noticed. Otherwise…" She trailed off, but the implication was clear.

Children of the moon. My mind went back to my encounter with Sirius. Edythe's description didn't seem to match him at all. He was calm, controlled, and rational; the children of the moon, by contrast, sounded feral and animalistic. But was it still possible? He had made that comment about the full moon … Once upon a time I would have dismissed that theory as absurd, but after today, nothing seemed impossible. And what did she mean by "mortal enemies"? The thought of it made me cringe.

She continued. "They spread the infection through biting, much like we do. I don't know how long the transformation takes or how painful it is. I've never come across any of them, and I certainly hope I never do."

She looked at me and smiled. "Now can we talk about something a little less dreary?"

"Well, I'm out of ideas," I said. "Actually, there is one thing…" And then the blood rushed up my neck. The darkness was no help. I knew she could feel the heat.

"What is it?"

"Forget it. It's not important. I think I'll just go to sleep. You can sing me a lullaby if you'd like."

"Beau, you can ask me anything."

I didn't speak, and she groaned.

"I keep thinking it will get less frustrating, not hearing your thoughts. But it just gets worse and _worse._

"It's bad enough that you eavesdrop on my sleep-talking," I muttered.

"Please tell me?" she murmured, her velvet voice taking on that mesmerizing intensity I found so difficult to resist.

"Fine," I said. She asked for it. "Do vampires have sex?" I felt embarrassed as soon as the words came out.

She laughed. "Well, what do you think?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say yes, but maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part." I felt more relaxed now.

"I told you that you could ask me anything." She paused, and then her voice became more formal, like a teacher lecturing. "So … in the general sense – Sex and Vampires 101. We all started out human, Beau, and most of those human desires are still there – just obscured behind more powerful desires. But we're not thirsty all the time, and we tend to form … very strong bonds. Physical as well as emotional."

"And now in the specific sense – Sex and Vampires 102, Beau and Edythe." She sighed. "I don't think … that would be possible for us."

"Because I'd have to get too close?" I asked.

"That would be a problem, but that's not the main problem. Beau, you don't know how … well, _fragile_ you are. Please don't take this personally; anyone human is fragile to me. I have to mind my actions every moment that we're together so that I don't hurt you. I could very easily kill you, simply by accident."

She put her hand against my cheek. "If I were too hasty … if I were at all distracted, I could reach out, meaning to touch your face, and crush your skull by mistake. You don't realize how incredibly _breakable_ you are. I can never, ever, afford to lose any kind of control when I'm with you."

If her life were in my hands that way, would I have already killed her? I preferred not to think about it.

"That's … good to know," I said half-heartedly.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I truly wish things could be different."

"Don't be," I said emphatically. "I like you just the way you are."

She gave me a strange look, but it was gone so quickly I wasn't sure if I'd imagined it. "Can I ask you something now – something potentially offensive?"

"Ask away."

"Do you have any experience with sex and humans?"

I wasn't surprised; I'd sort of seen it coming. "Not at all; this is all new to me. I've never felt like this about anyone before, not even close."

"I know. It's just that I hear what other people think. I know that love and lust don't always keep the same company, especially among males." She smiled. "No offense."

"None taken. And I'm saving myself for marriage," I added half-jokingly.

"Well, that's nice. We have that in common." She sounded completely serious.

So she'd never had any experience either. I was surprised by how relieved I felt.

"Do you find me distracting, then?" I teased. "Because I'm never _not_ distracted by you."

"Indeed." She was smiling again. "Would you like me to tell you the things that distract me?"

"Alright." This should be good.

"It was your eyes first. You have lovely eyes, Beau, like a sky without clouds. I've spend all my life in rainy climates and so I often miss the sky, but not when I'm with you."

"Really?" I asked incredulously. "Of all things?"

She giggled. "I'm not alone. Six of your fourteen admirers started with your eyes too."

" _Fourteen_?"

"They're not all so forward as Taylor and McKayla. But what can I say? You have a reputation as a bit of a bad boy. That, and you're more intelligent than any of them. If you want, I could give you the list."

"No thanks. You know I don't have eyes for anyone else. No pun intended." I winked.

She laughed. "Next it was your arms – I'm very fond of your arms, Beau – including your hands and shoulders." She ran her hand down my arm, then back up my shoulder, and back down to my hand again. "They're perfectly tan, not pale like everyone else's. Her fingers touched my face. "It all took me quite by surprise when I realized that not only did I find you delicious, but also beautiful."

My face and neck were burning at this point. Was she being serious? Did she really find me that attractive? No girl had ever complimented me on my looks before.

"Oh, and I didn't even mention your _hair_." Her fingernails combed against my scalp.

"Ok, now you're just screwing with me."

"I'm truly not. Did you know your hair is just precisely the same shade as a teak inlaid ceiling in a monastery I once stayed at in … I think it would be Cambodia now?"

"What were you doing in Cambodia?" I yawned involuntarily.

She smiled. "Long story. Did I answer your question to your satisfaction?"

"Yes, you did.

"Then you should sleep."

"I'll try. But I won't make any promises."

"Would you prefer it if I left?"

"No," I said, a little louder than I intended.

She laughed, then began to hum that same unfamiliar lullaby – her voice was like an angel's, soft in my ear.

More tired than I realized, exhausted from a day of mental and emotional stress, I drifted to sleep with her cold body in my arms.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

A/N - Hope you had a good spring break! The next few chapters are fairly short, which will give me more time to work on Evening Star. This chapter was quite fun to write (it really blurs the line between the T and M ratings). You'll see why. Also, I thought it was highly appropriate that this takes place on Sunday, which is when I wrote most of it (I'm a churchgoer too, btw). Anyway, hope you enjoy, thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!

The muted light of another cloudy day eventually woke me. I lay with my arm across my eyes, groggy and dazed. Something, a dream trying to be remembered, struggled to break into my consciousness. I rolled on my side, trying to get just a little more sleep. And then yesterday came flooding back into my memory.

I sat up so fast it made my head spin.

"Your hair has the ability to defy gravity." Her amused voice came from the rocking chair in the corner. "I wonder what else it can do?"

Automatically, I reached up to pat my hair down.

She sat crossed-legged in the chair, a perfect smile on her perfect face.

"You stayed." It was like I hadn't woken up after all.

"Of course. That's what you wanted, correct?"

I nodded.

She smiled wider. "It's what I wanted, too."

She'd been speaking at normal volume, which meant my dad probably wasn't here.

"Charlie?" I asked. I needed to be sure.

"He left an hour ago, with an amazing amount of gear."

Suddenly I remembered what day it was. I glanced at my watch, which I'd left on top of the drawer. "Dammit."

"What happened?" she asked, concerned.

"I overslept. I always go to church at 8:30." I stared at her. "Why didn't you wake me?"

She shrugged. "You needed the rest, and if you'd gone early, you'd probably be falling asleep during the sermon. And I'm sure you can find another time to go."

"Would you … like to come with me later?" I asked awkwardly. I felt so strange inviting someone with me to church, but I didn't want to be apart from her, even for an hour.

"I don't know," she replied, amused. "Will you promise me I won't start writhing in agony as soon as I go in?"

I laughed. "I promise."

"Then I'll go." Her gaze suddenly grew distant. "I can't even remember the last time I went…" She smiled. "I just have to ask, why do you go? Someone as hyperrational and analytical as you doesn't strike me as someone who would go to church every week."

"It's a habit of mine." I hesitated. "After my mom found me – about to" – I couldn't say it, but I knew she knew what I meant– "she tried to convince me to go to church. I didn't want to at first, but I gave in eventually. I didn't have anything to lose at that point. So I went. And that was the first time since I'd joined that gang that I felt like I belonged somewhere, that I was part of something bigger than myself." I smiled. "It's ironic; now I'm the only one who goes. My mom's always busy doing something else, and my dad's usually fishing."

She contemplated that for a moment. "Do you believe in …"

"Church dogma? Not particularly. But if you're asking if I believe in God, it's a bit more complicated. I guess the short answer is I think we're all accountable for the things we do. But I think that discussion can wait."

She pouted. "I hate it when you do that."

I shrugged. "You'll have to get used to it." But my mind had already wandered off, pondering what I would do alone with Edythe, in an empty house, with no need to go anywhere.

I rose from the bed and walked up to her. She waited for me, and seemed unsurprised when I lay my hands on her shoulders and began massaging her. I didn't think she needed it (did vampires even have a functioning circulatory system?) but it felt good. She leaned her head back and exhaled gently, her eyes closed.

"You left?" I asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. She was wearing a peach-colored sweater in lieu of the thin-strapped tank top.

She opened her eyes and smiled, putting one of her hands around my neck and drawing me closer. "Did you think I'd leave in the same clothes I came in with? In any case, I was only gone for a few minutes, and you were very deeply asleep at that point, so I know I didn't miss anything."

"What did I say?"

Her eyes got a little wider, and her face seemed more vulnerable. "You said you loved me," she whispered.

"You already know that."

"It was different, hearing the words."

I stared into her eyes. "I love you," I said.

She pulled me down until my forehead rested against hers. "You are my life now."

We stayed that way for a long time, until finally my stomach grumbled. She sat up, laughing.

"Sorry you had to hear that," I said with a rueful smile.

"Should we begin with breakfast?"

"I hope I'm not on the menu," I said casually.

Her eyes narrowed, and she scowled at me.

"It was a joke; relax."

She was still frowning. "Shall I rephrase? Breakfast time for the human?"

"Very well. I need another human minute first, if you don't mind."

"Of course."

I used my dad's mouthwash, then rushed through my shower. I ripped through my wet hair with a comb, trying to make it lie flat. It ignored me thoroughly. Then I realized I'd forgotten to bring clothes with me.

I hesitated for a minute, but I was too impatient to panic long. There was no way around it. I tucked the towel securely around my waist and then marched into the hall with my face blazing red. Even better – the patch of red on my chest was exposed as well. I stuck my head around the edge of the doorframe.

"I'm a pipin' hot mess."

She was still in the rocking chair. She laughed.

"I'm sure. Shall we meet in the kitchen, then?"

"Good idea. Let's not get too excited just yet."

She rolled her eyes, then went past me in a rush of cool air, down the stairs before a second had passed. I was barely able to follow the motion – she was just a streak of pale color, then nothing. Briefly, I wondered how I would have reacted if it had been the other way around.

"Thanks," I called after her, then hurried to my dresser.

I hurriedly got dressed before running down the stairs, not bothering to comb my hair – that was a lost cause.

She was leaning against the counter, looking very at home.

"What's for breakfast?" I asked.

That threw her for a minute. Her brows pulled together. "I'm not sure … What would you like?"

I laughed. "That's all right. I fend for myself pretty well. Just sit down and watch the human eat."

I got a bowl and a box of cereal. She returned to the chair she'd sat in last night, watching as I poured the milk and grabbed a spoon. I set my food on the table, then paused. The empty space in front of her on the table made me feel rude.

"I … don't suppose you want anything?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just eat, Beau."

I sat at the table, watching her as I took a bite. She was gazing at me, studying my every movement. It made me feel like a science experiment.

"So," I said after swallowing. "You have any plans for today?"

"Maybe," she said. "That depends on whether or not you like my idea, though I'm thinking it might influence your decision to go to church later."

"How bad can it be?" I asked as I took a second bite.

She pursed her lips. "Are you open to meeting my family?"

My mouth dropped, with the half-chewed cornflakes still in it. I quickly closed it, my cheeks turning red. "That's …" I honestly didn't know how to respond.

I decided to finish my cereal before answering. I needed to think this through.

I knew she was serious. And I'd met Archie already; he seemed like a cool guy. Dr. Cullen seemed like a decent human being as well (so to speak). But what were the rest like? A visit to the Cullen house was potentially problematic, to say the least. I was especially wary of Prince Charming; I had no idea what he might try to do if he was there.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," I said slowly.

"Why not?" she asked. She suddenly grinned. "They've warmed up to you, believe it or not. Especially after the cafeteria dance."

I wasn't amused. "I still haven't forgotten what you told me yesterday. Half your family wanted me dead after that little incident with Taylor's van. They may have warmed up to me, but I can't say the same about them. Not all of them, at least."

She frowned, obviously not expecting this. She was silent for a moment.

"Beau," she said, her voice low. "I know it's not easy to accept right now, but if we're going to have a future together, sooner or later you'll have to meet them. And trust me, even Royal …" She trailed off, then looked away.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"Nothing. It's not important." But judging from her tone, I was willing to bet it _was_ important." I decided not to press her, however. I would figure it out eventually.

"Ok," I said after a moment. "I'll go." I couldn't keep putting it off forever. And I most certainly did want to have a future with her.

"Does that mean I get to meet Charlie too, then?" she asked eagerly. "He already knows you're going out with someone, and I don't wish to keep hiding myself from him."

"Sure, but he's going to have a hard time believing I found someone as spectacular as you after living my whole life without a girlfriend. I really don't know how to break it to him."

She shrugged. "I doubt he'll struggle too hard with the idea of me being your girlfriend. Though it's a loose interpretation of the word _girl_ , I'll admit."

"You're right," I said. "You're much more than that."

She stroked one finger down the side of my face. "Well, I don't know if we need to give him all the gory details, but he will need some explanation for why I'm around here so much. I don't want Chief Swan putting a restraining order on me."

"And how would that stop you?" I teased."But will you really be here?" I asked seriously. It almost seemed too good to be true.

"As long as you want me."

"I'll always want you," I said bluntly. "Forever."

She put her fingers against my lips, and her eyes closed. I suddenly wished I hadn't said that.

I tried to put a name to her expression on her face. _Longing_ seemed closest. But longing for what?

Her eyes opened slowly. She stared into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she sighed.

"Shall we?"

I glanced at the clock on the microwave automatically. "Isn't it a little early? Actually, never mind." I might as well do it now, without any regrets.

"Is this okay?" I asked, gesturing to my clothes. It was probably a good idea to dress up a little more; I didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.

"You look …" She suddenly dimpled up. "Delicious."

"Which means I should change. Alright then –"

She laughed and shook her head. "Never change, Beau."

Then she stood and took a step toward me, so that her knees were pressed against mine. She put her hands on either side of my face and leaned down till her face was just an inch from mine.

"Carefully," she reminded me, though I really didn't know how careful I could be with her around.

She tilted her head to the side and closed the distance between us. With the lightest pressure, her lips touched mine.

 _Carefully_ , I thought. My hands balled into fists. I knew she would feel the blood pulsing into my face.

Slowly, her lips moved against mine. As she became more confident of herself, her lips became firmer. I felt them part slightly, and her breath washed cool across my mouth. Against my better judgment, I inhaled her scent. That was when I lost all control.

I hastily began removing my pullover and watched as she swiftly took off her own sweater as well. I then took off my shirt and waited as she slowly, gracefully, began removing her blouse, smiling voluptuously as she did so. Her eyes were filled with a very different kind of longing now, and as she tossed her blouse aside, exposing her small white bra, our lips met again, more violently than before. We were locked in a passionate embrace, oblivious to our surroundings. Nothing else mattered except her cold, perfect body pressed against mine.

But as I reached behind her back to untie her bra, she suddenly shoved me back. Startled, I lost my balance and fell on the floor. "No!" she shouted angrily.

I stared at her, not knowing what to say. Even angry, she was breathtakingly beautiful.

"I told you to be careful! Do you have any idea of the danger you were in?" She shook her head and gathered her clothes, which she put on with inhuman speed and grace.

"You're right," I said finally. "That was stupid." I felt ashamed, but also frustrated. Would it always be like this between us?

She sighed. "It was my fault as well. We both wanted this, Beau, but we just can't … I'm sorry."

What was left for me to say? She was right, as usual. She offered me her hand, and I took it, pulling myself up.

After putting my clothes back on, we headed for my truck, our plans unchanged. This time she headed straight for the driver's side of my truck without even asking me. I didn't argue, figuring it was the least I deserved. Besides which, I had no idea where she lived.

She drove respectfully, without any complaints about what my truck could handle. She took us north out of town, over the bridge and on to close-packed trees. I was starting to wonder how far we were going when she abruptly steered right onto an unpaved road. The turnoff was unmarked, and almost completely hidden by thick ferns. The trees leaned close on both sides, severely obscuring visibility.

We drove down this road for several kilometers until we arrived at a meadow, though it could easily be mistaken for a lawn. There were six enormous cedars – quite possibly the biggest I'd ever seen – whose branches shaded an entire acre. They pushed right up against the house in the middle of the meadow/lawn – hiding it.

I didn't know what I expected, but it definitely wasn't this. The house was probably a century old, three stories high and rather … charming, if that was the right word. It was painted a soft, faded white, and though the windows and doors looked original, they seemed to be in too good a shape for that to be true. My truck was the only vehicle in sight. When Edythe shut off the engine, I could hear the sound of a river somewhere close by.

"Wow."

"You like it?"

"It's … really something. Your family has good taste."

Suddenly she was outside my door. I opened it slowly, starting to feel the nerves I'd been trying to suppress.

"Are you ready?"

"Not a chance. Let's do this."

She laughed, and I tried to laugh with her, but the sound seemed to get stuck in my throat. I pretended to spit on my hand, then tried to rub my hair flat.

"You look great," she said, then took my hand casually. It was a small thing, but it made me feel much more relaxed.

We walked through the deep shade up to the porch. I knew she could feel my tension. She reached across her body to put her free hand on my forearm for a second. Then she opened the front door and walked inside, towing me behind her.

The inside was even less like what I was expecting than the outside. It was very bright, very open, and very big. It must have started out as several rooms, but most of the walls had been removed from the first floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass. Past the cedars the lawn was open, and it stretched down to a wide river. A massive staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all different shades of white.

Edythe's parents were waiting for us. They stood just to the left of the door on a small platform in front of a huge grand piano. It was also white.

I'd seen Dr. Cullen before, of course, but it hit me again how young she was, and how incredibly beautiful. She was holding hands with Earnest, I assumed – he was the only one of the family I'd never seen before. He seemed about the same age as Dr. Cullen, maybe a few years older, and had the same pale, flawless features as the rest of them. He had wavy hair, the color of caramel, a few centimeters longer than mine. There was something very … kind about his face, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was, or why I thought that. They were both dressed in light colors that matched the inside of the house.

They smiled, but made no move to approach. They were probably trying not to scare me.

"Carine, Earnest, this is Beau," Edythe said.

"You're very welcome, Beau." Carine stepped forward, slow and careful. She raised her hand hesitantly. I stepped forward to shake, and I was rather surprised by how right it felt. Maybe it was because she reminded me of Edythe in so many ways.

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen."

"Please, call me Carine."

I grinned at her, surprised at how confident I felt. "Carine," I repeated. Edythe squeezed my hand lightly.

Earnest stepped forward as well, offering his hand. His cold, stone grasp was just what I expected.

"It's very nice to know you," he said sincerely.

"Thank you. I'm glad to meet you too." And I was. This was the right thing to do. This was Edythe's home, her family, and I wished to be a part of it.

"Where are Archie and Jess?" Edythe asked.

No one answered, because they'd just appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Hey, Edy's home!" Archie called, and then he streaked down the stairs, just a blur of pale skin, coming to a sudden stop right in front of us. I saw Earnest and Carine shoot warning glances at him, but I didn't mind. It was natural for him – how they moved when they didn't have to worry about strangers watching.

"Beau, my man!" he greeted me enthusiastically, as if we were old friends, and when I went to shake it, he pulled me into one of those one-armed bro-hugs, thumping me lightly on the back.

"Hey, Archie," I said, shocked by how friendly he seemed. I smirked. "Is it okay if I call you Archer?"

He grinned. "Sure. As long as you give everyone else a nickname."

When he stepped back, I saw that he'd made quite an impression. Carine and Earnest were watching my face with wide eyes. Edythe's jaw was locked, but I couldn't tell if she was worried or angry.

"You do smell good; I never noticed before," Archie commented. _Well, this is awkward_ , I thought as I realized what that must look like to _them._ Nobody else seemed to know what to say.

Then Jessamine was there. The way she stood reminded me of a hunting lion, for some reason, and I couldn't help feeling a little intimidated. But suddenly, I was completely comfortable. It felt as if I was in my own house surrounded by people I knew well. It reminded me of what I felt when Jules was around. It was strange to have that sensation here, and then I remembered what Edythe had told me about what Jessamine could do. That was weird to think about. It felt completely natural, not the result of some magic trick on her part.

"Hello, Beau," Jessamine said. She didn't approach or offer to shake my hand, but it didn't feel awkward (unlike with Archie).

"Hello, Jessamine." I smiled at her. "I promised Archie I'd give everyone a nickname. How about Jesse James?"

I noticed everyone suddenly became tense, their eyes all focused on her, though I couldn't imagine why. "I think I like that one," Jessamine replied mischievously. "It's ... particularly apt." Everyone laughed, though I noticed it sounded slightly forced.

"It's nice to meet you all – you have a very nice home," I said.

"Thank you," Earnest replied. "We're so glad that you came." He spoke with feeling, and I realized that he thought I was brave.

I also realized that Royal and Eleanor were nowhere to be seen, and though I was not surprised, I was kind of disappointed. It would have been nice to get that out of the way with Jessamine here, making me feel calm.

My eyes wandered over to the beautiful piano on the platform. I suddenly remembered my childish fantasy about buying a grand piano for my mother when I was older. She was rather mediocre, but I loved to watch her play anyway. She was happy, absorbed – she seemed like a new, mysterious person to me then. She'd put me in lessons, and I'd thoroughly enjoyed them, but I quit when she could no longer afford to pay.

Earnest noticed my stare.

"Do you play?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not anymore. But it's very beautiful. Is it yours?"

"No," he laughed. "Didn't Edythe tell you she was musical?"

"She hasn't mentioned it. But I should have known, right?"

Earnest raised his eyebrows, confused.

"Is there anything she's not good at?" I asked rhetorically.

Jessamine laughed again. Archie rolled his eyes, and Earnest gave Edythe a very fatherly look, which was impressive considering how young he seemed.

"I hope you haven't been showing off," he said. "It's rude."

"Oh, just a little bit. But you could say the same of _him."_ Edythe laughed – the sound was infectious, and everyone smiled, including me. Earnest smiled the widest, though, and he and Edythe shared a brief look.

"Edythe, you should play for him," Earnest said.

"You just said showing off was rude."

"Make an exception." He smiled at me. "I'm being selfish. She doesn't play enough, and I love to hear her."

"I'd like to hear you play," I told her.

She gave Earnest a long, exasperated look, then turned the same look on me. When that was done, she walked up to sit on the bench. She patted the spot next to her and then looked back at me.

I went to join her, though I didn't think I'd be of any help.

As soon as I sat down, her fingers started flowing across the keys, filling the room with a piece so complex and full it was impossible to believe only one person was playing. My mouth fell open in shock, and I heard chuckling behind me.

Edythe looked at me casually while the music surged around us without a break.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it." Then I realized something. "You wrote this."

She nodded. "It's Earnest's favorite."

I continued listening, but began to feel sad inexplicably. Edythe apparently noticed; the music changed slowly into something softer … something familiar. It was the lullaby she'd hummed to me, only much more intricate.

"I thought of this one," she said quietly, "while I watched you sleeping. It's _your_ song."

The song turned even softer and sweeter. Words couldn't adequately describe it.

Then her voice turned normal again. "They like you quite a bit, you know. Earnest especially."

I glanced behind me, and the big room was empty.

"Where did they go?"

"Giving us some privacy. Subtle, aren't they?"

I laughed, then frowned. "It's nice that they like me. I like them. But Royal and Eleanor … I'm ashamed of what I did," I admitted lamely.

Her expression tightened. "Don't worry about it. Royal will come around eventually."

"Eleanor?"

She laughed sharply. "El thinks we're both lunatics, but that doesn't seem to bother her at all. She's off trying to reason with Royal now."

I continued listening to the music, my music. It kept changing and evolving, but the heart of it stayed the same. I wasn't sure how she did it. She didn't even seem to be paying much attention.

"Whatever magic Jessamine does feels … completely normal. Actually, it felt incredible."

She laughed. "Words don't fully do it justice, do they?"

"Not really. But … does she like me? She seemed rather aloof."

"That was my fault. I told you she was the most recent to try our way of life. I warned her to keep her distance."

"Oh."

"Indeed."

I tried not to shudder.

"Carine and Earnest think you're wonderful," she told me. "And that you have a great sense of humor."

"I didn't really do much. Just shook a few hands, gave a few nicknames …"

"They're happy to see me happy. Earnest probably wouldn't care if you had a third eye and webbed feet. All this time he's been worrying about me, afraid I was too young when Carine changed me, that there was something missing from my essential makeup. He's so relieved. Every time I touch you, he practically bursts into applause."

"Archie's enthusiastic."

Her face turned serious. "He has his own special perspective on life."

I looked at her for a moment, weighing her expression.

"What?" she asked.

"You're not going to explain what you mean by that, are you?"

Her eyes narrowed as she stared back at me, and a moment of wordless communication passed between us. I knew she wasn't telling me something about Archie, something her attitude toward him hand been hinting at for a while. And she knew that I knew, but she wasn't going to give anything away. Not now.

I stared at the floor, thinking.

She interrupted my musing. "Carine wanted to tell me some news."

"About what?" I asked

"Archie sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious. My behavior might be a little odd for the next few days – or weeks, so now you'll know why."

"What kinds of visitors?"

"They're like us, but not like us. Their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I won't be letting you out of my sight till they're gone."

"Shouldn't we warn people about it? I mean, it's the least we can do."

Her face was serious, and sad. "Carine will ask them not to hunt nearby, as a courtesy, and they most likely won't find that an issue. But we can't do more, for a variety of reasons." She sighed. "They won't be hunting here, but they'll be hunting somewhere. That's just how things are when you live in a world of monsters."

I shivered.

"Finally, a rational response," she murmured. "I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all."

My eyes wandered again around the big white room.

"It's not what you expected, isn't it?" she asked, and her voice was amused again.

"No," I admitted.

"No coffins, no piled skulls in the corners; I don't even think we have cobwebs … what a disappointment this must be for you."

"Speaking of which," I said. "Have you ever met Count Dracula or Lord Ruthven?"

She snorted. "No, but if I do, I'll let you know."

The song drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a more melancholy key. The last note lingered for a long moment, and something about the sound of that single note was so sad that a lump formed in my throat.

I cleared it out. "Thank you."

The music had affected her as well. She stared searchingly at me for a long moment, then shook her head and sighed.

"Would you like to see the rest of the house?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. "But will I find any skeletons lying around, or boxes of Transylvanian soil?"

"Keep dreaming."

We walked up the wide staircase hand in hand. My free hand trailed along the satin-smooth rail. The hall at the top of the stairs was paneled in wood the same pale color as the floorboards.

She gestured as we passed the doors. "Royal and Eleanor's room … Carine's office … Archie's room …"

She would have continued, but I stopped dead at the end of the hall, staring with raised eyebrows at the ornament hanging on the wall above my head. Edythe laughed at my expression.

"I'll let you savor the irony," she said.

"It looks very old," I said. I wanted to touch it, to see if the dark patina was as silky as it looked, but I knew it was valuable.

She shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less."

I looked away from the cross to stare at her.

"How did you get this?"

"It belonged to Carine's father."

"He collected antiques?"

"No. He carved this himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached."

I turned back to stare at the cross while I did the math. The cross was over three hundred and seventy years old, which meant …

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"How old is Carine?" I asked quietly, still staring up.

"She just celebrated her three hundred and sixty-second birthday," Edythe said. She watched my expression carefully as she continued, and I tried to pull it together. "Carine was born in London in the sixteen-forties, she believes. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the commoners anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though."

"During the English Civil War and Cromwell?" I shook my head. "I wonder what that must have been like."

"She can't remember most of it, though that's probably for the best." And then she told me the rest. About Carine's father, who hunted all manner of supernatural beings, though with little success. About his ill-fated attempt to catch several vampires off-guard, which ended with his death and Carine's excruciatingly painful transformation into a vampire herself.

I wasn't sure what my face was doing, but she suddenly broke off. She looked at me sympathetically. "I apologize for offending your ... religious sensibilities."

"I'm okay – what happened next?"

She half-smiled at my intensity, then turned back down the hall, pulling me with her.

"Come on, then," she said. "I'll show you."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

A/N – _I'm truly sorry about not updating until now. I've been sick for the past two weeks, and on top of that, some idiot stole my Macbook, forcing me to start this chapter from scratch (which at the time was the least of my worries). For those of you interested, I opened a poll where you can vote for your favorite characters so far. You can vote for up to two characters, and I plan to leave it open until I finish the story. It'll be visible in my profile. Anyway, this chapter was fairly short, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. In the next chapter, Bonnie will reveal a secret she's been hiding from everyone else, including her own tribe; I'll be really looking forward to writing that one. As_ always, _thanks for reading_!

She led me back to the room that she'd pointed out as Carine's office. She paused outside the door for an instant.

"Come in," Carine's voice invited.

Edythe opened the door to a tall room with long windows that stretched the entire height of the walls. Most of the wall space was taken up by towering bookshelves reaching to the ceiling and holding more books than I'd ever seen outside a library.

Carine sat behind a large mahogany desk in a leather chair. She was just placing a bookmark in the pages of the thick volume she held. The room was how I'd always imagined a college dean's would look – only Carine looked too young to fit the part.

"What can I do for you?" she asked with a smile, rising from her seat.

"I wanted to show Beau some of our history," Edythe said. "Well, your history, actually."

"We didn't mean to disturb you," I apologized.

"Not at all," she said to me, and then to Edythe, "Where are you going to start?"

"The Waggoner," Edythe said. She pulled me around in a circle, so that we were facing the door we'd just walked through.

This wall was different from the others. Instead of bookshelves, it was covered by dozens of framed paintings of all sizes and colors. I searched for some logic, some binding motif the collection had in common, but found nothing.

Edythe pulled me to the far left side, then put both her hands on my arms and positioned me directly in front of one of the paintings. My heart reacted the way it always did when she touched me – even in the most casual way. It was all the more embarrassing knowing that we weren't alone.

The painting she wanted me to look at was a small square canvas in a plain wooden frame; it did not stand out among the bigger and brighter pieces. Painted in different shades of brown, it showed a miniature city full of steeply slanted roofs. A river filled the foreground, crossed by a bridge covered with structures that looked like tiny cathedrals.

"London in the sixteen-fifties," Edythe said.

"The London of my youth," Carine added, a few feet behind us. I jumped a little – I hadn't heard her approach. Edythe took my hand and squeezed it lightly.

"Will you tell the story?" Edythe asked. I turned to see Carine's reaction, hoping my enthusiasm didn't show too much.

She met my glance and smiled. "I would, but I'm actually running a bit late. The hospital called this morning – Dr. Snow is taking a sick day. But Beau won't miss anything." She smiled at Edythe now. "I'm sure you can get him caught up on the Interregnum, after telling him the stories."

She winked at me before leaving the room.

I stared at the picture of her hometown for a long minute, thinking. She had been alive for more than three hundred years. She had undoubtedly witnessed some of the most important events in English, and even world, history. There were so many questions I had to ask her, but I would have to wait.

"What came next?" I asked again. "When she knew what had happened to her?"

She nudged me over a half-step, her eyes on a bigger landscape. It was done in dull fall colors – an empty, shadowed meadow in a forest, with a craggy peak in the distance.

"When she knew what she had become," Edythe said quietly, "she despaired … and then rebelled. She tried to destroy herself. But that's not easily done."

"How?" I pondered the irony of her trying to commit suicide after narrowly avoiding death at the hands of those religious fanatics.

Edythe shrugged. "She jumped form great heights. She tried to drown herself in the ocean. But she was young to the new life, and very strong. It's amazing that she was able to resist … feeding … while she was still so new. The instinct is more powerful then; it takes over everything. But she was so repelled by herself that she had the strength to try to kill herself with starvation."

"Is that possible?" I asked quietly.

"No, there are very few ways we can be killed."

"Could, say, a nuclear blast be sufficient? Pardon me for being insensitive."

She laughed. "Yes, that would do it. Actually, you don't need something that powerful. Our bodies are highly flammable, so any large explosion would be enough to kill us." She glanced at me. "I hope I'm not giving you any ideas."

"Not at all," I replied calmly. "Please, go on."

"So she grew very hungry, and eventually weak. She strayed as far as she could from the human populace, recognizing that her willpower was weakening too. For months she wandered by night, seeking the loneliest places, loathing herself."

"One night, a herd of deer passed beneath her hiding place. She was so wild with thirst that she attacked without a thought. Her strength returned and she realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster she feared. Had she not eaten venison in her former life? Over the next months, her new philosophy was born. She could exist without being a demon. She found herself again."

"She began to make better use of her time. She'd always been intelligent, eager to learn. Now she had unlimited time before her. She studied by night, planned by day. She swam to France and –"

"Really?" I interrupted. "Was that a proper thing for a seventeenth-century lady to do? I mean, I'm sure she would have been able to find a boat somewhere."

She rolled her eyes. "No one was watching. And besides, swimming is easy for us, because, technically, we don't need to breathe." She smiled darkly at me as she finished her sentence.

I stared at her for a moment. "I'm sorry, was that supposed to be a surprise?"

She shook her head. "Does anything get past you?"

"It wasn't difficult to extrapolate. You appear to lack a functional circulatory system, which means you don't use hemoglobin, which means you have no delivery mechanism for oxygen. Ergo, you don't need to breathe."

Edythe smiled. "You know, it's times like these when I really begin to wonder when all of this is going to be too much, and you finally snap and run away screaming, denouncing all of this vampire nonsense." Her smile faded. "I won't stop you when that happens. I want it to happen, because I want you to be safe. And yet, I want to be with you. The two desires are impossible to reconcile …" She trailed off, staring at my face.

"I'm not running anywhere," I promised.

"We'll see," she said, smiling again.

I frowned at her. "No, we won't. Now back to the story – Carine was swimming to France. I'm assuming no sharks along the way."

She chuckled briefly before settling into the story again. Reflexively, her eyes flickered into another picture – the most colorful of them all, the most ornately framed, and the largest; it was twice as wide as the door it hung next to. The canvas overflowed with bright figures in swirling robes, writhing around long pillars and off marbled balconies. I couldn't tell if it represented Greek mythology, or if the characters floating in the clouds above were meant to be biblical (though I suspected the former was probably closer to the mark).

"Carine swam to France, and continued through Europe, to the universities there. By night she studied music, science, medicine – and found her calling, her penance, in that, in saving human lives." Her expression became reverent. "I can't adequately describe the struggle; it took Carine two centuries of torturous effort to perfect her self-control. Now she is all but immune to the scent of human blood, and she is able to do the work she loves without agony. She finds a great deal of peace there, at the hospital …" Edythe stared off into space for a long moment. Suddenly she seemed to remember the story. She tapped her finger against the large painting in front of us.

She continued. While studying in Italy, Carine discovered other vampires, who were far removed from the ones she had known in London, literally and figuratively. They were the figures in the painting: Sulpicia, Marcus, Athenodora, and Mele. But although Carine tried to convince them to abandon what they called their _natural food source_ , she was unsuccessful, as were they in convincing her otherwise. She then made her way to the New World, hoping to find others like herself.

"Did she swim there too?" I asked.

"Yes, she did," Edythe replied with a smirk. "She didn't find anyone for a long time, but as monsters became the stuff of fairy tales, she found she could interact with unsuspecting humans as if she were one of them. She began working as a nurse – though her learning and skill exceeded that of the surgeons of the say, as a woman, she couldn't be accepted in another role. She did what she could to save patients from less able doctors when no one was looking. But though she worked closely with humans, the companionship she craved evaded her; she couldn't risk familiarity."

"When the influenza epidemic hit, she was working nights in a hospital in Chicago. She'd been turning over an idea in her mind for several years, and she had almost decided to act – since she couldn't find a companion, she would create one. She wasn't sure which parts of her own transformation were actually necessary, and which were simply for the enjoyment of her sadistic creator, so she was hesitant. And she was loath to steal anyone's life the way hers had been stolen. It was in that frame of mind that she found me. There was no hope for me; I was left in a ward with the dying. She had nursed my parents, and knew I was alone. She decided to try …"

Her voice, nearly a whisper now, trailed off. She stared unseeingly through the long windows. I wondered which images filled her mind now, Carine's memories or her own. I waited.

She turned back to me, smiling softly. "And now we've come full circle."

"So you've always been with her?"

"Almost always."

She took my hand again and pulled me back out into the hallway. I looked back toward the pictures I couldn't see anymore, wondering if I'd ever hear the other stories.

She didn't add anything as we walked down the hall.

"Almost?"

Edythe sighed, pursed her lips, and then looked up at me from the corner of her eye.

"You don't want to answer that, do you?" I said.

"It wasn't my finest hour."

We started up another flight of stairs.

"You can tell me anything."

She paused when we reached the top of the stairs and stared into my eyes for a few seconds.

"I suppose I owe you that. You did the same for me."

I looked at her apprehensively, and suddenly remembered what she'd told me in the cafeteria, _You can't possibly be worse than I am_. Is this what she'd been referring to? I carefully set my face and braced myself.

She took a deep breath. "I had a typical bout of rebellious adolescence about ten years after I was … born … created, whatever you want to call it. I wasn't sold on Carine's life of abstinence, and I resented her for curbing my appetite. So … I went off on my own for a time."

"Really?" I knew I should have been shocked, but what I felt instead was more curiosity.

"That doesn't repulse you?"

"Honestly, no. I guess it just seems natural."

She laughed one sharp laugh and then started pulling me forward again, through a hall similar to the one downstairs, walking slowly. "From the time of my new birth, I had the advantage of knowing what everyone around me was thinking, both human and non-human alike. That's why it took me ten years to defy Carine – I could read her perfect sincerity, understand exactly why she lived the way she did."

"It took me only a few years to return to Carine and recommit to her vision. I thought I would be exempt from the depression that accompanies a conscience. Because I knew the thoughts of my prey, I could pass over the innocent and pursue only criminals. If I followed a murderer down a dark alley where he stalked a young girl – if I saved her, then surely I wasn't so terrible."

I tried to imagine her as a vigilante. What would she have looked like, coming silent and pale out of the shadows? Would the murderer ever see what was coming? Or would death come before he even had a chance to blink?

"But as time went on, I began to see the monster in my eyes. I couldn't escape the debt of so much human like taken, no matter how justified. And I went back to Carine and Earnest. They welcomed me back like the prodigal. It was more than I deserved." She gave me a penetrating stare. "You still think you're the monster?"

"That was different," I said. "Think of how many lives you saved. The only person I rescued was myself, and I had it coming."

"No, you didn't," she insisted. "You did the only thing you could, given the circumstances. But I had a choice, and I chose to kill those people even when they posed no threat to me."

I didn't know how to respond. I realized, then, that she and I had something else in common; we were both trying to run away from a dark past, attempting to live a better life somewhere else. We really were destined for each other.

We'd come to a stop in front of the last door in the hall.

"My room," she said, opening it and pulling me through.

Her room faced south, with a wall-sized window like the great room below. The whole back side of the house was glass, apparently. Her view looked down on the wide, winding river, which I figured had to be the Sol Duc, and across the forest to the white peaks of the Olympic Mountain range. The mountains were much closer than I'd previously thought.

Her western wall was covered with shelf after shelf of CDs; the room was better stocked than a music store. In the corner was a complex sound system, one I'd never seen before. There was no bed, only a deep black leather sofa. The floor was covered with a thick, gold-colored carpet, and the walls were upholstered with heavy fabric in a slightly darker shade.

"Ever heard of an iPod?" I asked matter-of-factly. "It can store up to a thousand songs, or so they say. I reckon you'd probably need a few hundred, but on the bright side, you can put all of that shelf space to use storing something else."

Edythe laughed. "Yes, well, I'm not a big fan of Apple, first of all. And second, call me old-fashioned, but I happen to like owning the CDs instead of having all of my favorite songs on a little device prone to malfunctioning."

She picked up a remote and turned the stereo on. It was quiet, but the soft jazz number made it sound as if the band was in the room with us. I went to look at her astonishingly diverse music collection.

"How do you have these organized?" I asked, unable to find any rhyme or reason to the titles.

"Ummm, by year, and then by personal preference within that frame," she said absently.

I turned, and she was looking at me with an expression in her eyes that I couldn't read.

"What? Please don't tell me I have something stuck in my teeth."

"You're so silly. It's just … I was prepared to feel relieved. Having you know about everything, not needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn't expect to feel more than that. I _like_ it. It makes me … happy." She shrugged and smiled.

"I'm glad," I said, smiling back. I'd worried that she might regret telling me these things. It was good to know that wasn't the case. But I could never come clean myself. Some secrets were just too dangerous.

As her eyes dissected my expression, her smile faded and her eyebrows pulled together.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I'm thinking that no matter how hard I try, I just can't picture you as scary, even with a Halloween costume." I gave her a lopsided grin.

She raised her eyebrows, and then a slow smile began spreading across her face.

"You probably shouldn't have said that," she told me.

And then she growled – a low sound that ripped up the back of her throat and didn't sound human at all. Her smile got wider until it changed from a smile into a display of teeth. Her body shifted, and she was half-crouched, her back stretched long and curved in, like a cat ready to pounce.

"Um, nice kitty?" I said cautiously.

I didn't see her attack – it was much too fast. I couldn't even understand what was happening. For half a second I was airborne and the room rolled around me, upside down and then right side up again. I didn't feel the landing, but suddenly I was on my back on the black couch and Edythe was on top of me, her knees tight against my hips, her hands planted on either side of my face so that I couldn't move, and her bared teeth just inches from my face. She made another soft noise that was halfway between a growl and a purr.

"Wow," I breathed.

"I take it back. You are a very terrifying monster."

She grinned. "Much better."

"And it doesn't change a damn thing. I'm still madly in love with you."

Her face went soft, her eyes wide, all the walls down again.

"Beau," she whispered.

"Can we come in?" a low voice asked from the door.

In a fraction of a second Edythe pulled me up so that I was sitting on the sofa and she was next to me, her legs draped over mine.

Archie stood in the doorway, Jessamine behind him in the hall. My neck began to turn red, but Edythe seemed completely relaxed.

"Please," she said to Archie.

He didn't seem to notice that we'd been doing anything unusual, though I suspected that he had and simply didn't care. He walked to the center of the room and folded himself onto the floor in a motion so graceful it was surreal. Jessamine stayed by the door, and, unlike Archie, she looked a little shocked. She stared at Edythe, probably trying to gauge her (and my) emotions.

"It sounded like you were having Beau for lunch," Archie said, "and we came to see if we could have the leftovers."

I stiffened until I saw Edythe grin – whether because of Archie's comment or my reaction, I couldn't tell.

"Sorry," she replied, throwing a possessive arm around my neck. "There won't be anything left after I'm through with him."

Archie shrugged. "Fair enough."

"Actually," Jessamine said, taking a hesitant step into the room, "Archie says there's going to be a real storm tonight, and Eleanor wants to play ball. Are you game?"

In what kind of alternate reality were they living in, that they wanted to play a game during a thunderstorm, that they in fact appeared to be _waiting_ for such a storm? In any case, Archie sounded like a fairly reliable weather forecaster.

Edythe's eyes lit up, but she hesitated.

"Of course you should bring Beau," Archie said. I thought I saw Jessamine glancing quickly at him.

"Do you want to go?" Edythe asked. Her expression was so eager that I would have agreed to anything.

"Sure. So where are we going?"

"We have to wait for thunder to play ball – you'll see why," she promised.

I turned to Archie. "So just how accurate are your weather prognostications, if you don't mind me asking?"

All three of them laughed. "Very accurate, I'd say," Archie replied brightly. "The storm will hit over town. It'll be dry enough in the clearing, just in case you were worried about getting wet."

"Good," Jessamine said, and the enthusiasm in her voice was – unsurprisingly – catching. I found myself getting excited about the idea, though I wasn't even sure what it was.

"Let's call Carine and see if she's in," Archie said.

"Like you don't already know," Jessamine teased, and then they were gone.

"So … what are we playing?" I asked.

" _You_ will be watching," Edythe clarified. " _We_ will be playing baseball."

I looked at her skeptically. "Vampires enjoy baseball? What's next, werewolves playing ice hockey?

She smiled up at me. "It's the American pastime."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

A/N _–_ _Sorry for making you all wait yet again. I wanted to spend an extra day or two improving this chapter, but then I got sidetracked and made you all wait a week; it doesn't help that I've been working on such a crappy computer. So I've decided to stop making false promises. I won't be posting a new chapter every weekend (as if I was doing that anyway). Instead, I'll update whenever it's ready. This might mean one a week, and it might not. Also, I was thinking of combining some of the following chapters (the shorter ones at least), though I haven't made up my mind yet. Anyway, I apologize again for the long wait, and I hope you enjoy this one. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think_!

P.S. _Never leave your laptop unattended in a public space_.

It was just beginning to rain when Edythe turned onto my street. Up until that moment, I'd had no doubt that she'd be staying with me while I spent a few hours in the real world.

And then I saw the black, weathered sedan parked in Charlie's driveway – and heard Edythe mutter something angry under her breath.

Leaning away from the rain under the shallow front porch, Julie Black stood behind her mother's wheelchair. Bonnie's face was impassive as rock while Edythe parked my truck against the curb. Jules stared down, looking mortified.

Edythe's low voice was furious. "This is crossing the line."

"She came to warn Charlie?" I asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. This was getting interesting. How far would Bonnie go in convincing Charlie not to let me see Edythe?

In any case, Charlie wasn't home, nor would he be back anytime soon.

"Let me deal with this," I suggested calmly. One look at Edythe's glare convinced me that it would not be in anyone's best interest in letting her handle the situation.

Surprisingly enough, she agreed. "Good idea. Be careful, though. The child has no idea."

"Child? Really? She'd taller than you, and not much younger than I am."

She looked at me then, her anger gone. She grinned. "Oh, I know."

I sighed.

"Get them inside so I can leave," she told me. "I'll be back around dusk."

I didn't want to have to do this, but it was the only way. "You can take the truck," I offered.

She rolled her eyes. "I could _walk_ home faster than this truck moves."

I chuckled. "True."

"I'll be back soon," she promised. "And I'm sorry, for not being able to go with you to church. I'll make it up to you." Her eyes flickered over to the porch, and then she darted in swiftly to press her lips to the side of my neck. My heart bounced around inside my ribs while I, too, glanced at the porch, thinking that she already had. Bonnie's face was no longer impassive, and her hands clutched at the armrests of her chair.

"I'm missing you already," I said as I opened my door and stepped out into the rain.

"Hi, Julie. Hello, Bonnie," I greeted them, as politely as I could manage. "Charlie's gone for the day – I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Not long," Bonnie said in a subdued tone. Her dark eyes were piercing. "I just wanted to bring this up." She gestured to a brown paper sack resting on her lap.

"Thank you," I said automatically, though I didn't know what it was. "Come on in, make yourselves at home."

I ignored her scrutinizing as I unlocked the door and waved them inside ahead of me. Jules gave me a half-smile as she walked by.

"Let me take that," I offered as I turned to shut the door. I exchanged one last look with Edythe – she was perfectly still as she waited, her eyes serious.

"You'll want to put that in the fridge," Bonnie instructed as she handed me the package. "It's a batch of Holly Clearwater's homemade fish fry. Charlie's favorite. The fridge keeps it drier."

"Thank you," I repeated, though I meant it this time. "I'll try not to eat all of it before he gets back," I added jokingly.

She did not seem amused. "Julie, she said, not taking her gaze off me for even a second. "Why don't you go get that new picture of Aaron out of the car? I'll leave that for Charlie, too."

"Where is it?" Julie asked, sounding dejected. I glanced at her, but she was staring at the floor, her black brows pulling together.

"I think I saw it in the trunk," Bonnie said. "You may have to dig for it."

Julie stalked back out into the rain.

I turned and headed to the kitchen. I heard her wet wheels squeak against the linoleum as she followed

I fit the paper bag into a space on the top shelf of the fridge. "I imagine she'll spend awhile looking for that picture," I said blandly. I was growing tired of this charade.

She continued to stare at me, her eyes boring into mine.

"He won't be back for a while. So if that's everything …"

"Beau," she said. "Charlie is one of my best friends."

"I know."

She spoke each word carefully in her deep, resonant voice. "I notice you've been spending time with one of the Cullens." She frowned. "What did you do to that poor girl?"

"You mean McKayla? We broke up a few days ago. It was an amicable split; don't worry. No hard feelings. Not that it really concerns you."

She raised her thick eyebrows at my tone. "You probably don't know this, but the Cullen family has an unpleasant reputation on the reservation."

"Why? Because they're vampires?" I asked coldly.

She was stunned speechless.

"Let's stop wasting each other's time. We both know that you came to warn me to stay away from Edythe and her family. And I'm here to tell you that it's not happening."

Her expression hardened. "I don't suppose Charlie knows about this. Have you considered what might happen to him? Stay away from her, for his sake at least, if not yours."

I exhaled through my teeth. "Everybody keeps saying that. 'Stay away from her. Stay away from her.' I'm sick and tired of hearing it. They're _not_ going to hurt Charlie. So, if that's all you came to tell me –"

"Who else told you?" she interrupted. She was glaring at me suspiciously.

I hesitated. What if Edythe found out? Worse, Bonnie might not know anything at all, in which case I would only be giving her another reason to drive us apart. But it was a risk I would have to take.

"I spoke with someone when I went to Port Angeles with McKayla. I don't know for sure, but I have reason to think he's one of the Children of the Moon."

I'd caught her by surprise yet again, but she did not interrupt. "He told me to stay away from Edythe. He seemed to know everything about me, and about the Cullens. I have no idea who he is or what he wants, but I need you to tell me if anyone like him has ever appeared to your people, or if there are Quileute legends concerning the Children of the Moon. Please." I was not used to pleading, but this was too important to let my ego get in the way.

She was reeling from what I'd just said. For the first time, she dropped her gaze. I heard only the pounding of the rain outside. Then she spoke.

"The werewolves," she muttered softly. "There are legends, but I don't know that any of it relates to this." She paused, apparently trying to decide whether to tell me more.

"There was someone," she said slowly. "Long before our first encounter with the Cullens. Someone familiar with our ways. He spoke with our tribal chief." She paused again, and I wondered whether she thought she had divulged too much. But she continued nevertheless. "He said that we had a common enemy, and that he hoped we would one day join them in bringing justice."

Common enemy. It didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant. "Do you know who he was?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

"No," she replied brusquely. "But my ancestor called him the Man with the White Eye. He came alone, covered in black armor, and she said the mere sight of him struck fear into her, though he insisted he meant no harm. He said that only the Quileute leader could know of their meeting, and told her that one day he would come back." She sighed. "And so the tale has been passed down for centuries, from one tribal chief to the next, waiting for his return."

Just then, I heard the front door bang loudly.

"There's no picture anywhere in that car." Jules's complaining voice reached us before she did. She rounded the corner. The shoulders of her t-shirt were stained with the rain, her long hair dripping.

"I must have left it at home. Can you wait outside for just a minute? I'll be right out." Bonnie turned to her expectantly.

"We're leaving already?" Julie asked incredulously.

"Charlie won't be here anytime soon, so there's no point in lingering."

"Fine," Jules replied reluctantly. I felt a pang of sympathy for her as I saw her walking back the way she came.

Bonnie turned back to me. "Promise me you won't tell anyone else about this. Right now we're the only ones who know. I haven't even told Julie."

"I promise," I replied solemnly.

She nodded. When she spoke, her voice was only a whisper. "He said he was the leader of an organization. They called themselves the Khálûmar. And before you ask, I don't know what it means. But if you think the man you met might be a part of this group, then I suggest you do what he says."

"Nice try," I said sardonically. As if I hadn't seen that coming. "But I'm not about to give in that easily."

"You don't know what their intentions are," Bonnie said, a note of desperation in her voice. "What will you do if they come after her, or after Charlie?"

Not a day went by when I didn't think about it. But now I finally had an answer. "Then we'll face them together."

"Don't be a fool," Bonnie implored, angry yet sad at the same time. "You've no idea what you're up against."

"No," I admitted. "But I know they know that the Cullens aren't like other vampires. By now I'm sure they've figured out I intend to stay with Edythe, whether they like it or not."

Bonnie sighed, looking defeated. "Then there's nothing left for me to do here. Tell Charlie that we stopped by."

"I will," I muttered. "And thank you." I helped her out the door. Julie was standing outside, looking bored.

"Finally!" she exclaimed. "What were you doing in there?"

"Just talking," Bonnie replied dismissively. She glanced at me. "Take care," she warned. I nodded. "Bye Jules," I said, waving, still feeling sorry for her. She waved back, and, after glancing swiftly toward my now-empty truck, I shut the door.

There was so much to think about. Bonnie's revelation had raised more questions than answers, and I had no one else to turn to. And what if she was lying? She could have just invented that whole story just to convince me to leave Edythe. But there were far too many similarities between her story and my encounter with Sirius, details I hadn't even told her about. She had to be telling the truth, which meant … I didn't know what it meant.

I decided to put it out of my mind for now. I glanced at my watch: my dad probably wouldn't get here for at least another hour. Then I realized; the afternoon service had started five minutes ago. I rushed outside into the rain and headed for the truck.

I came back shortly before Charlie. I left the door open for him. "Hi dad," I said casually when I saw him enter. "Where's the fish?"

"Out in the deep freeze." He began scrubbing his hands in the kitchen sink.

"I'll go grab a couple while they're fresh – Bonnie dropped off some of Holly Clearwater's fish fry this afternoon." My voice conveyed an enthusiasm that I did not feel.

"She did?" Charlie's eyes lit up. "That's my favorite!"

Charlie cleaned up while I got dinner ready. It wasn't long before we were both at the table, eating in silence. Charlie was obviously enjoying the food. I was wondering how I would broach the subject of my new girlfriend. I suppose I already had, in a way, though in a rather tactless and immature manner.

"What did you do today?" he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Well, I just finished going to church." I tried to keep my voice upbeat, but I felt hollow inside. "And this morning I was over at the Cullens."

Charlie dropped his fork.

"Dr. Cullen's place?" he asked in astonishment.

I pretended not to notice his reaction. "Yeah."

"What were you doing there?" He hadn't picked his fork back up.

"Well, do you remember what I said about the girl I'd been making eyes with before?"

He nodded. "Wait, you don't mean to tell me –"

"Yes," I interrupted. "I'm sorry about the way I'd behaved last night, and for not telling you about it sooner. But I'm going out with Edythe Cullen tonight, and she wanted to introduce me to her parents."

He whistled. "Wow. Son, I hardly recognize you. You went from never going on a date to having two girlfriends in one week. Are you sure you're alright?"

I shrugged. "I just want to enjoy life, that's all. Staying in my room all day isn't healthy."

"Huh." He reflected for a minute while he ate another bite. "So you went to meet her folks, eh?"

"Yeah. I already knew Dr. Cullen. But I got to meet her father."

"Earnest Cullen is great – quiet, but very … kind, I guess is the best word for it. There's something about him."

"I noticed."

"Frankly, I'm still surprised. As I recall, you and I got into an argument when you said there was something off about the Cullen family. The last thing I expected was for you to go on a date with one of them."

"Things change," I said, averting my gaze.

"They sure do." He smiled. "So do I get a visit, too?"

I grinned. "That depends. Will you be on your best behavior?"

He lifted both hands. "What, me? Have I ever embarrassed you before?"

I laughed. "Let's not get started."

He huffed. "So when are you picking her up?"

"Um, she's meeting me here. So you do get a visit, after all. She'll probably be here soon."

"Where are you taking her?"

"The plan is to go play baseball with her family."

Just then, I heard an unfamiliar engine roar up to the house, and I looked up.

"That her?"

"Maybe …"

After a few seconds, the doorbell rang, and Charlie jumped. I ran around him and beat him to the door.

"A little excited, aren't you?" he muttered under his breath.

The rain was coming down harder than before. Edythe stood in the halo of the porch light, looking like a model in an ad for raincoats.

I heard Charlie's breath catch in surprise. I wondered if he'd ever seen her up close before. It was rather unnerving.

I just stared at her like an idiot.

She laughed. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." I stepped out of her way, trying to act a little civilized, for a change, and knocked into Charlie in the process.

After a few more seconds of bumbling around, I had her jacket hung up and hand both her and Charlie sitting down in the living room. She was in the armchair, so I went to sit next to Charlie on the sofa.

"So, Edythe, how are your parents?"

"Excellent, thank you, Chief Swan."

"You can call me Charlie. I'm off the clock."

"Thanks, Charlie." She unleashed the dimples, and his face went blank.

After several embarrassing moments of conversation (for him and me, at least), Edythe and I finally went outside, where I stopped dead.

There, behind my truck, was a monster Jeep. Its tires were as high as my waist. There were metal guards over the headlights and taillights, and four large spotlights attached to the crash bar. The hardtop was bright scarlet.

Charlie let out a low whistle. "Wear your seat belts."

I went to the driver's side to get the door for Edythe. She was inside in one efficient little leap, though I was glad we were on the far side of the Jeep from Charlie, because it didn't look entirely natural. I went to my side and climbed unceremoniously into my seat. She had the engine running low, and I recognized the roar that had surprised me earlier. It wasn't as loud as my truck, but it sounded distinctly more menacing.

Out of habit – she wasn't going to start driving until I was buckled in – I reached for my seat belt, and instead found the off-roading harness. _Right_ , I thought. _Monster Jeep_.

I tried putting it on as quickly as possible, knowing that we wouldn't leave until I was done. Apparently I'd done it right, because she started pulling away from the house.

"Is this … your Jeep?"

"It's Eleanor's. She let me borrow it so Charlie wouldn't get suspicious."

"Where do you keep it?"

We remodeled one of the outbuildings into a garage."

We drove in silence for a few moments. Then I reached over and took her hand. "You don't know how much I missed you."

She laughed – it was a trilling sound, not quite human. "I missed you too. Isn't that strange?"

"Why would it be?"

"You'd think I'd have learned more patience over the last hundred years. And here I am, finding it difficult to pass an afternoon without you."

"I'm glad it's not just me."

She leaned over to swiftly kiss my cheek, then pulled back quickly and sighed. "You smell even better in the rain."

I sniffed my arm. "Really? I can't really smell anything."

She smiled. "You're only human."

"I feel compelled to ask; why do you find my particular scent so appealing? My blood type is O negative, something I share with roughly four hundred and thirty million people in the world. So I'm wondering, what makes me so special?"

Her smile widened. "Everyone has a different scent, Beau. It's not just about red blood cell types and antigens. And I don't know exactly what it is, but it's only one of many things that sets you apart from everybody else."

She'd apparently found a side road that was more or less a mountain path. For a while conversation was impossible, because I was bouncing up and down on the seat like a jackhammer. Throughout the ride, her smile never faded; she seemed to be enjoying this immensely.

And then we came to the end of the road; the trees formed green walls on three sides of the Jeep. The rain was a mere drizzle, slowing every second, the sky brighter through the clouds.

"We're going on foot from here."

"Fine by me," I said, grinning. "I was starting to miss the feeling." I unstrapped the harness and climbed out of the Jeep. She was already there, waiting.

She laughed before turning her back to me. "Ok, bad boy, climb on."

I had to admit, I still felt awkward climbing on her back, if only because it was such a stark reversal of gender roles. But to hell with that. The ride was what really mattered.

"Hold on tight," she warned, and then she was off.

It was even more exhilarating than before. I realized she was going faster this time, apparently figuring that I wasn't prone to motion sickness. I closed my eyes and imagined that I was soaring in the sky. It wasn't difficult; the motion of her body was so smooth, I would have thought she was just strolling down the sidewalk – with an unruly ape on her back. Her breath came and went evenly.

I wasn't entirely sure we had stopped when she reached back and touched my face.

"Ride's over."

I tried getting off without losing my balance, but failed miserably and – arms windmilling wildly – fell hard on my rear end.

For a second she stared at me, trying to decide how to react.

Then she burst into long peals of laughter, throwing her head back and holding her arms across her stomach.

I just stood there, lying on the ground, and started laughing as well in spite of myself. So much for looking dignified.

I got up slowly and brushed the mud and weeds off the back of my jeans as best I could. "Ok," I said, "I think that's enough humor at my expense." I started walking down the nearest path I could find.

Something caught the back of my sweater, and I smiled. I looked over my shoulder. She had a fistful of sweater, the same way she'd grabbed me outside the nurse's office.

"Where are you going, Beau?"

"To the baseball game. Where else?"

"It's the other way."

I pivoted. "Right."

She took my hand and we started walking slowly toward a dark patch of forest.

"You're the most reckless human I've ever met," she said.

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment. How am I supposed to keep you safe when you have absolutely no regard for your own well-being?"

"I have a suggestion. Stop worrying about it."

She closed her eyes. "I just can't seem to stop putting you in danger. I think I'm in control of myself, and then it gets so close – I don't know how to be this anymore." Eyes still closed, she gestured to herself. "My very existence puts you at risk. Sometimes I truly hate myself. I should be stronger. I should be able to –"

I moved my hand to cover her mouth. "Stop. Worrying."

Her eyes opened. She peeled my hand off her mouth and placed it over her cheek again.

"I love you," she said. "It's a poor excuse for what I'm doing, but it's still true."

It was the first time she'd ever said she loved me – in so many words. Like she'd said this morning, it was different, hearing the words out loud.

"I love you," I told her when I'd caught my breath. "I don't want you to be anything other than what you are."

She gave me an odd look, then turned away and sighed. "Now, be a good boy for once," she said, and stretched up on her tiptoes.

I held very still while she brushed her lips softly against mine.

We stared at each other for a minute.

"Baseball?" she asked.

"Baseball," I agreed confidently.

She took my hand and led me a few feet through the tall ferns and around a massive hemlock tree, and we were suddenly there, on the edge of an enormous clearing on the side of a mountain. It was twice the size of any baseball stadium.

Everyone else was there. Earnest, Eleanor, and Royal were sitting on an outcropping of rock, about ninety meters away. Much farther out I could see Jessamine and Archie standing at least four hundred meters apart. It was almost like they were pantomiming playing catch; I never saw any ball. It looked like Carine was marking bases, but that couldn't be right. The points were much too far apart.

When we walked into view, the three on the rocks stood. Earnest started toward us. Unsurprisingly, Royal walked away, toward Carine. Eleanor followed Earnest after a long look at Royal's back.

I turned away. I would make peace with him later, if I could.

"Was that you we heard before, Edythe?" Earnest asked.

"Sounded like a hyena choking to death," Eleanor added.

I smiled tentatively at Earnest. "We were both laughing, but I think she was the only one enjoying herself."

"Beau was being funny," Edythe explained.

Archie had left off his game of catch and was running toward us – his feet never seeming to touch the ground. In half a heartbeat he was there, hurrying to a stop in front of us.

"It's time," he announced.

The second he spoke, a deep rumble of thunder shook the forest behind us and then crashed westward toward town.

"Eerie, isn't it?" Eleanor said to me. When I turned to look at her, surprised by her casual demeanor, she winked. I took that as a sign of encouragement.

"I promised Archie I'd give everyone in your family a nickname," I said. "Can I call you Lenore?"

She smiled. "'For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies, The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes.' I like it. I think I'll go with that."

"You can talk about Edgar Allan Poe later. Let's go!" Archie took Eleanor's hand and they darted toward the oversized diamond. Archie almost … bounded – like a stag, but closer to the ground. Eleanor was less graceful but just as fast, though she was something altogether different. Something that _charged_ , not bounded.

"Are you ready for some ball?" Edythe asked, her eyes bright.

It was impossible not to be enthusiastic about something that made her so happy. "Go get'em!"

She laughed, quickly ran her fingers through my hair, then raced off after the other two. Her run was more aggressive than either of the others', like a cheetah to a gazelle – but still supple and stunningly beautiful. She quickly caught up to and then passed the others.

"Shall we go watch?" Earnest asked softly. I realized that I was staring openmouthed after them. I quickly reassembled my expression and nodded. Earnest kept a few feet farther away than I thought necessary, though I figured he was still being careful not to frighten me. He matched his stride to mine without seeming impatient at the pace.

"You don't play with them?" I asked.

"No, I prefer to referee. I like keeping them honest."

"Do they cheat?"

"Oh, yes – and you should hear the arguments they get into! Actually I hope you don't; you'd think they were raised by a pack of wolves."

Somehow that didn't seem as funny after my conversation with Bonnie, but I tried laughing anyway.

It didn't fool him. "Are you alright?" he asked, a look of concern on his face.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to sound casual. "Just a little nervous about the game, that's all. I'm not sure what to expect."

He chuckled. "You won't be disappointed, that's for sure."

We continued walking. "You don't know how happy it makes me to see both of you together," he said, smiling warmly at me. "She's been the odd man out for far too long. It's hurt me to see her alone."

"I just want her to be happy. If that involves sharing her life with an old gimp like me, then so be it."

He laughed. "I think we all enjoy having you around."

I wondered if that included Royal. Somehow I doubted it.

Another peal of thunder began.

Earnest stopped then; apparently, we'd reached the edge of the field. It looked as if they had formed teams. Edythe was far out in left field, Carine stood between the first and second bases, and Archie held the ball, positioned on the spot that had to be the pitcher's mound.

Eleanor was swinging an aluminum bat; it whistled almost untraceably through the air. I waited for her to approach home plate, but then I realized, as she leaned into her stance, that she was already there – farther from the pitcher's mound than I would have thought possible. Jessamine stood several feet behind her, catching for the other team. None of them had gloves, of course.

"All right," Earnest called in a clear voice, which I guessed even Edythe would hear, as far out as she was. "Batter up."

Archie stood straight, still as a statue. He held the ball in both hands at his waist, and then, like a cobra's strike, his right hand flicked out and the ball smacked into Jessamine's hand with a sound like a gunshot.

Apparently it had been a strike. "Go Archer!" I yelled. He grinned at me as Jessamine hurled the ball back to his waiting hand. And then his hand spun out again.

This time the bat somehow made it around in time to smash into the invisible ball. Judging by the earthshattering impact, I realized that the ball must have broken the sound barrier. Evidently this was why they waited for the storm.

I was barely able to follow the ball, shooting like a meteor above the field (and almost as fast, I thought), flying deep into the surrounding forest.

"Home run," I muttered.

"Wait," Earnest said. He was listening intently, one hand raised. Eleanor was a blur around the bases, Carine shadowing her. I realized Edythe was missing.

"Out!" Earnest cried. I stared in disbelief as Edythe sprang from the fringe of the trees, ball in her upraised hand, her wide grin clearly visible.

"Eleanor hits the hardest," Earnest explained, "but Edythe runs the fastest."

It was like watching superheroes play. It was impossible to keep up with the speed at which the ball flew, the rate at which their bodies raced around the field.

I learned the other reason why they waited for a thunderstorm to play when Jessamine, trying to avoid Edythe's infallible fielding, hit a ground ball toward Carine. Carine ran into the ball, and then raced Jessamine to first base. When they collided, the sound was like the crash of two massive boulders. I jumped, afraid someone would be hurt, but they were completely unharmed.

"Safe," Earnest called in a calm voice.

Eleanor's team was up by one – Royal managed to tear around the bases after tagging up on one of Eleanor's long flies – when Edythe caught the third out. She sprinted to my side, beaming with excitement.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Amazing," I said honestly. "I don't think I'll ever find another baseball game entertaining after seeing this one."

"Right; I'm sure you were such a huge baseball fan," she laughed.

"Just don't get too cocky; the game's not over yet."

She flashed her dimples, leaving me breathless.

"I'm up," she said, heading for the plate.

She played intelligently, keeping the ball low, out of the reach of Royal's always-ready hand in the outfield, gaining two bases like lightning before Eleanor could get the ball back in play. Carine knocked one out so far out of the field – with a supersonic boom that hurt my ears – that she and Edythe both made it in. Archie slapped them high fives.

The score constantly changed as the game continued, and they razzed each other like street ballplayers as they took turns with the lead. Occasionally Earnest would call them to order. The thunder rumbled on, but we stayed dry, as Archie had predicted.

Then, as I looked up, I noticed a small silver object high up in the clouds. It was gone in a fraction of a second, so fleeting that I wasn't even sure it had been there. I squinted, trying to see if I could find it again, but saw nothing. _Probably just my imagination_ , I thought.

My mind went back to the game. Carine was up to bat, Edythe catching, when Archie suddenly gasped. My eyes were on Edythe, as usual, and I saw her head snap up to look at him. Their eyes met and something flowed between them in half a second. She was at my side before the others could ask Archie what was wrong.

"Archie?" Earnest asked, tense.

"I didn't see," Archie whispered. "I couldn't tell."

They were all gathered in now.

Carine was calm, authoritative. "What is it, Archie?"

"They were traveling much quicker than I thought. I can see I had the perspective wrong before," he murmured.

Jessamine put her arm around him, her posture protective. "What changed?" she asked.

"They heard us playing, and it changed their path," Archie said, contrite, as if he felt responsible for whatever had happened.

Seven pairs of quick eyes flashed to my face and away.

"How soon?" Carine asked.

A look of intense concentration crossed his face.

"Less than five minutes. They're running – they want to play." He scowled.

"Can you make it?" Carine asked Edythe, her eyes flicking toward me again.

"No, not carrying –" She cut short. "Besides, the last thing we need is for them to catch the scent and start hunting."

"How many?" Eleanor asked Archie.

"Three."

"Three!" she scoffed. "Let them come." The long bands of muscle flexed down her arms.

For a brief moment, Carine deliberated. Only Eleanor seemed relaxed; the rest stared at Carine's face, obviously anxious.

"Let's just continue the game," Carine finally decided. Her voice was cool and level. "Archie said they were simply curious."

The entire conference lasted only a few seconds, but I had listened carefully and caught most of it. I couldn't hear what Earnest asked Edythe, but I saw the slight shake of her head and the look of relief on his face.

"You catch, Earnest," she said. "I'll call it now."

She stood right next to me as the others returned to the field, all of their eyes sweeping the forest. Archie and Earnest seemed to orient themselves around where I stood.

"Stay very still, keep quiet, and don't move from my side, please," I could hear the stress in her voice, though she tried to hide it.

"That won't help," Archie murmured. "I could smell him across the field."

"I know," Edythe snapped.

Carine stood at the plate, and the others joined the game halfheartedly.

"What did Earnest ask you?" I whispered.

She hesitated a second before she answered. "Whether they were thirsty."

The seconds dragged by while the game progressed apathetically. No one dared to hit harder than a bunt, and Eleanor, Royal, and Jessamine hovered in the infield. I wondered why Carine had even bothered to continue the game; it was clear no one was enjoying it any longer.

Edythe paid no attention to the game at all, eyes and mind scanning the forest.

"I'm sorry, Beau," she muttered fiercely. "It was stupid, irresponsible, to expose you like this. I'm so sorry."

I heard her breath stop, and her eyes zeroed in on right field. She took a half-step, angling herself between me and what was coming. The guilt I initially felt for ruining their game was now mingled with dread; what if something happened to her because of me? I could never let that happen, but at the same time, I knew there was nothing I could do.


End file.
